


The Strange Case of Mr. Shimada

by Oswald



Series: The town of Watchpoint [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Americana, Burials, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Dynamics, Hunters & Hunting, LETS LEARN ABOUT MONSTERS!, M/M, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Knotting, Reinhardt Wilhelm (mentioned) - Freeform, Small Towns, Torbjörn Lindholm (mentioned) - Freeform, Trans Genji Shimada, Trans Male Character, Weird Town, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Werewolves, ana amari (mentioned) - Freeform, gabriel reyes (mentioned) - Freeform, headcannon heavy, i am not ashamed of my werewolf fetish (I am very ashamed of it), i wanted to avoid oc's as much as possible but it just didn't work out so SHRUG EMOJI, jack morrison (mentioned) - Freeform, lotta mentioned characters lol, romantic sex, the werewolf fanfiction that no one asked for but got anyway, werewolf dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:30:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oswald/pseuds/Oswald
Summary: What the townsfolk consider "lonely" and what  Genji considers "lonely" are two very different kinds of lonely and if his boots get chewed up a second time this month, he's going to starting wishing for the first kind.





	1. It's no ventura highway, truth be told.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone please give genji a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeata'd. no warnings this chapter.  
>   
> [talk twitter to me](https://twitter.com/OswaldSleepy)  
> 

On a good day, the drive into town roughly takes an hour and a half. Add another 45 minutes for grocery shopping and a drive back and that's a four hour trip that would exhaust even the most outgoing of people.

Double that exhaustion by two for Genji – he's gotten __very__ unused to people as the years have passed. It's a far cry from his youth, where his phone would be blowing up at any given time. He likes it's solidarity now. Likes it a __lot__ , likes it enough that he's wary to tell people that he even lives in the forest. Once or twice the question has appeared, and every time it's waved away with a (forced) pleasant “ _Oh, here or there_.”

But townsfolk are funny - they always manage to weasel out the answers, one way or another. After all, it's not hard to notice that Genji's not from the area. Curious glances aren't new and irritating questions are a-plenty, but that just comes with living in a tiny town in the heart of rural America.

Over time, he just got used to "Why the forest?"

It was just "the thing".

 

\- - -

 

That said, there's a strange kind of calmness that comes with saying hello to the locals over the apple section. In Japan, he would read stories of strange, rural American towns. Of bewildering cults and of how deranged the people could be. In reality, the strangest thing Genji's seen was the night the art house decided to run a showing of __Un Chien Andalou__ and the PTA decided to protest.

 

\- - -

 

Father Winston's cart runs into his and he profusely apologizes, worried about Genji's (barely moved) carton of eggs. He insists on switching, on the off chance that there are any shattered ones and stating that Genji needs them more.

“You're all skin and bones!” he says with his trademark deep laugh, “You need more protein, young man!”

(Genji doesn't comment on the three containers of peanut butter hidden in the basket. At least one of them is getting the proper amount.)

  
  


They talk for a bit. __“The snow's really falling this year” “Glad I got the driveway salted early” “Think it'll ruin the harvest?”__

Father Winston invites him to the church potluck (again), hoping that Genji has rescinded on his decision of solitude (he hasn't).

“Well, don't be a stranger! You're always welcome!” Father Winston says, undeterred from asking again next year, “Athena tried her hand at dumplings. She wanted you to give it at taste test.”

It's really very sweet, albeit a little misguided. Father Winston says he'll put some aside for Genji and bring them to the cabin when the ice thaws.

“Only so much driving one does with poor eyesight,” Father Winston smiles at him, wiping flecks of dust from his eyeglasses.

 

\- - -

 

Every time he checks out, the blue-haired lady at the front asks him “Aren't you lonely up there sugar?”

Every time she asks, Genji smiles and says no, he's really not.

 

\- - -

After the grocery mart, he stops at the art house to pick up his check. One has to make a living somehow, don't they?

Miss Vaswani (A tall, stern woman with a honied voice and an almost obsessive need for order) slides the check to him. She watches him beneath her eyelashes.

“I don't understand how you can tolerate such quiet,” She says as he slides the check in his pocket, “Even _I_ need some movement once in awhile.”

Genji says nothing, instead eyes the poster hanging on the cork board wall. A new artist would be passing through town to get to Washington State, a younger lady who was doing “wonders” with bright colors, cute imagery, and gore. Genji's seen some of her work – she's very talented.

  
  


“You know, I got another request for a commission, Mr. Shimada.” Miss Vaswani says, “They said they'd pay you quite handsomely.”

It's a nice offer. A recently married couple wanting a scroll to christen their new house, willing to pay through the ass for one. Genji declines (as per usual), and walks back to the truck, nestling his face in his scarf.

Miss Vaswani knows better. At this point, she just asks to out of politeness. His scrolls take months to finish and perfect. Inspiration is hard enough to come by as is and he doesn't need a pushy client making it worse.

  
  


The truck is coated in a thin layer of white when he gets back. The sky is dark-grey, almost black, the clouds fat with snow. They'd been predicting a tough winter and it sure as hell was living up to that. The snow just didn't seem to want to stop anytime soon.

At least the roads aren't as bad as they were last year. Genji's not the greatest driver there ever was (in fact, he's pretty terrible). Nearly getting into a head-on collision due to ice is __not__ something he wants to repeats, thank you.

So, after a quick stop at the bank, he straps the groceries in and turns back onto the main road. He takes a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly and going as slow as possible

It was Jesse's turn to get groceries. Genji's going to turn him into a fucking _throw pillow_.  
  
  


\- - -

 

Before we go any further, dear reader, we should clarify something about the strange case of Genji Shimada and his so called “loneliness”.

The townsfolk are the only one that view it that way.

Loneliness is the furthest thing from Genji's mind, as he turns from the main road onto the unpaved path – his home is actually very lively.

Just...not in the way the townsfolk would understand.

 

That is to be expected, really. Genji didn't expect it _himself_ , but life sure does change when you start living with a werewolf.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two stories that need to be updated, I have one story that needs to be posted, and one story that isn't even being closed to be finished.   
>  _time for another fic._   
>  I started working on this over the weekend. I really love werewolf!mccree, like, maybe a little too much
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I genuinely view Genji as a very artistic person - I feel like it would be something he dabbled with when he was younger and as time went on, he got more serious about it. He makes a pretty good living selling his scrolls and, in rare cases, he'll make a specialized one for you, if you ask him nicely and don't pester him.  
> Why is Winston a priest? Because I think I'm funny jk
> 
>  
> 
> Fun fact: in my computer, this story's working title is "The werewolf fic no one asked for". That fits, idk
> 
>  
> 
> **Find me on**[Twitter](https://twitter.com/OswaldSleepy) and [Tumblr](https://oswaldsleeping.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> 


	2. no one said living in the forest was a good idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's their own little slice of paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mentions of sex, blood, gore  
>   
> [talk twitter to me](https://twitter.com/OswaldSleepy)  
> 

 

“Do not give me that look.” Genji frowns. He's got a light-up collar in one hand, the scruff a very big, very hairy, _very_ whiny wolf in another. His jacket and boots are _soaked,_ snow sliding down his neck, “I told you if you did it again, I would make you wear this.”

The werewolf in question whines again, practically pouting. But he sits still as Genji slips the collar on, pressing the “On” button. Bright blue begins to shine around the collar's center. “If you did not attempt to attack me every time I came back, you would not be wearing this, McCree.”

Jesse makes a cacophony of grunts and whines, trying to explain his point without using his words.

Well...speaking with a muzzle must be pretty difficult, Genji will give him that. Besides, he can make out the gist of what Jesse's saying.

“That may be, but I do not need to be “kept on my toes”,” he leans down to gather the tossed-away jar of peanut butter. The oranges have rolled down the front steps, “If anything, you are the one that should be practicing, you mutt. You're getting lazy.”

Jesse snorts, plucking the cluster of bananas from the bushes and trotting into the cabin. They make quick work of it together, getting the groceries off the ground and into the kitchen. The eggs are (mercifully) intact, even if the cereal is a little worse-for-wear.

 

In this form, Jesse may trot on the ground, but he can stand on his back legs should the need arise. His front paws can still open doors and manipulate handles (however, he's pretty poor at delicate tasks – he's broken plenty of forks this way). This comes into handy when Genji hands him the last bag of groceries and turns to to put the kettle on the stove.

“I got another request,” He says after a moment, listening to Jesse struggle to put a bag of rice into the rice container (they have containers for everything – cereal, rice, coffee, milkbones – a place for everything and everything in it's place, right?) Jesse huffs, deeming the rice to be a lost cause and trotting back to Genji with the half opened bag.

“Get me the tea box, won't you?” Genji takes the bag and puts it aside, turning back to the kettle. The water has begun to bubble, “I am glad they appreciate my work. I'll have to send word to Zenyatta, I keep forgetting to send his in the mail.” He takes the tea box (in reality, a particularly pretty box that once held papers and is now holds little tin boxes of loose leaf teas) from Jesse's jaws, searching over the little containers for the right one. Jesse huffs again, laying besides the stove, his feet tucked neatly underneath him (he looks very much like a cat when he does that, Genji thinks).

One ear perks, his tail beginning to thump against the ground. It's been awhile since Genji's spoken of his old master.

  
“He mentioned visiting the next time he gets to the states. It would be nice to see him again.” Genji pulls the desired tin out, measuring out the leaves and taking a clean mug. The peppermint leaves crackle in the hot water, “Would you like to?”

Jesse gives a soft _woof_ and a yawn, his tail still thumping against the floor. Years and years ago, he'd met Genji's former teacher and good friend Zenyatta. Jesse mentions him from time to time - the monk had made quite the impression.

 

Genji takes his tea to the front windowsill, settling in to watch the snow. From the side of his eye, he can see Jesse's back leg shaking – he looks like a rubber band pulled taut, ready to fly.

 

“Do not leave for too long.” Genji says, taking a sip – Jesse gives another woof and barrels out the door.

 

\- - -

  
Mating season for North American werewolves starts in the middle of winter, when the forests are quiet and the nights are cold. It's a kind of twofold effect: fertile werewolves will produce litters in the late spring and it creates a tight bond between the mated pair. Things are...different for werewolf/non-werewolf partners. There's a slim-to-none chance of litters being produced. The few that are often are born too early and born sick. Furthermore, most non-werewolf partners have a hard time keeping up with their more energetic partners.

Ergo, most of these partnerships don't work.

But, clutching a cup of steaming tea and watching Jesse frolicking in the falling snow (actually _frolicking -_ considering he's a full grown werewolf, this looks just as silly as you think), it seems so worth it. Genji sits against the windowsill, one leg tucked under him, the other swinging back and forth. He gets a weird sense of joy seeing Jesse chasing shadows, his collar a streak of bright-blue in the ever growing darkness. If you'd asked him ten years ago if he thought he'd ever feel so at home, he would have have laughed in your face.

They'd built the cabin by hand, cut every log in this house, sanded every surface smooth. It was theirs, _theirs_ , this little slice of paradise. A cabin with two floors, located in the center of the forest, right across from the river. A tiny garden in the back, the stubborn pine littering the back steps with dark-green needles. Together, they sustained themselves and were happy with the life they'd chosen.

 

Jesse could run around without fearing he'd become someone's rug and Genji...well Genji had peace and quiet. And that's all he'd ever wanted. It wasn't “loneliness”, like the townsfolk insisted, it was _freedom_. Jesse leaps, catching a particularly big snowflake between his jaws, falling back and rolling. The whole scene is really very cute, very...Jesse. It's hard to believe there's a late-thirty-something man under all that hair.

 

Genji sits the cup in his lap, goosebumps rising on his arms. He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against the chilly glass.

 

 

\- - -

 

“ _Come with me_.”

 

That's all he'd said, reaching his hand out. It must have looked so funny, this tall, burly, beast of a man standing over this tired, morose looking shell of a person, “ _Ain't nothin for either one'a us here_.” Genji remembered the day. Hell, he could tell you the exact hour, minute, and second. The leaves were falling, the wind had been particularly nasty that day. Dressed all in black, clutching a photo yellowed at the edges and cracked on one side. Autumn smelled like rain, the ground soft and pliant and so very, very cold. He couldn't make himself turn around, couldn't make himself look at that fucking tombstone...

For a moment Genji had hesitated. He wasn't stupid, he knew how dangerous werewolves were. They were unpredictable, they were ruled by instinct, they were _wild animals._ This was stupid, fool hardy and practically signing his death warrant.

 

 _“Do you trust me_?”

 

That was it. The thing that made Genji throw every fear, every worry, every unseeable detail out the window, because _yeah,_ he did. He really, really _did_.

He trusted Jesse more than he trusted everyone else, because Jesse was _real_. He couldn't be arsed to lie about useless matters, had a pretty poor filter, and acted with his heart rather than his head and, Genji never felt the need to hide around him. He could be himself, giant gaping flaws and all.

So in the night, they left. Left appropriate letters to their families (well to _Jesse's_ family; Genji didn't have anyone else) and decided to start anew.

 

\- - -

 

  
And here he was, years later, sitting by a windowsill and watching his partner play in the snow. How time flies.

 

His eyes flutter open. Jesse's not out front anymore, instead stomping into the house, his fur dotted with snowflakes, his tail wagging madly. Before Genji has a chance to stop him, he shakes the water from his back, sending freezing droplets everywhere.

“ _YOU MUTT!_ ” Genji shrieks, nearly spilling his tea. Well, _that_ certainly spoiled the mood. He's _soaked_ , the flannel not doing much to keep him warm (hey, only so much one shirt can do). The almost-dead fire in the fireplace is finally snuffed out.

Jesse actually looks a little ashamed of himself, tucking his tail between his legs and laying his ears against his skull. He pads to Genji, giving a pathetic whine.

“Do not start with me. Why can you not do that _before_ you come inside?!” Genji glowers. He feels like his _mother_ , scolding his wayward brother and himself for something silly, “How many times must I to tell you? _Not. In. The. House_.”

Jesse lays his head against Genji's thigh. He gives a low grunting noise.

“You are ridiculous.” Genji pinches the bridge of his nose. Jesse pushes his head into Genji's thigh again, whining even louder. He taps his paw against the ground, nuzzling his muzzle against the inside of Genji's knee, “No, you are a grown man, I am not falling for that.”

Jesse plants first one paw on the windowsill, and then the next, raising his head to press it against Genji's chest. “Use your words.” Genji grumbles. His hands find those soft, sensitive ears, scratching in just the perfect spot. Jesse's tail begins to wag, “I would not get upset with you, if you did not shake in the house, mutt.”

Jesse gives a growly-whine, tail wagging furiously. His head drops onto Genji's shoulder, one paw swatting at Genji's shirt.

“Don't be rude.” Genji gives a him a firm tap on the nose, “Go get more firewood.”

Jesse gives another swat, ignoring Genji's request. There's something in his eyes, a feral mischievousness that Genji's oh-so-knowledgeable of. He smirks, taking the werewolf's head in both hands and holding it still, leaning down to press his nose against Jesse's cold, wet one.

“Get the firewood,” He murmurs, eyes half-lidded, “Be a good boy and go get it. And then you'll get a treat.” Jesse's off like a shot. Genji laughs, places his cup aside and walks upstairs – wolfish, indeed.

 

\- - -

 

  
There's something nice about sleeping with a dog. Well, Genji knows better to call him a “dog”. Jesse's _really_ not into that, but he's into praise, so it all evens out in the end.

It's awkward, but Genji reaches behind him to scratch one of those soft, floppy ears. Jesse huffs in appreciation. He shifts his hips, the thick knot inside of him still hot and heavy. Jesse grunts, one mechanical paw-like-hand clutching Genji's firm hip and keeping him in place. Genji has a tendency to squirm during their sessions, which pulls painfully on Jesse's knot. It takes the fun out of the afterglow!

“You were enthusiastic tonight,” Genji grumbles snuggling back into the werewolf's broad chest. His fur is thick and full, and so wonderfully warm, “Full moon have anything to do with that?”

Jesse grunts, one lazy ear flopping forward. He's not keen on “moon” jokes either, but Genji can't help himself. You can't just let these opportunities get away!

“No matter.” he yawns, eyes fluttering shut, listening to the soft _thump thump thump_ of Jesse's tail against the bed. He's such a puppy sometimes, even while locked together with his mate, “It was nice.”

Jesse laves his tongue against Genji's neck, his tail still wagging against the bed. Something about the chill of winter gives him such a boost of energy. It's put to good use.

“We'll have to go hunting in the morning,” Genji says, half awake, “Maybe when the snow settles. I hate hunting when it's sleeting, the deer are getting good about hiding.”

 

 

\- - -

 

There's a puff of auburn fuzz in the holly bush again. Genji sees it in the morning, standing on the back porch with his coffee, watching the storm progress. Jesse eyes the fuzz for a moment, eyes narrowed and ears pulled back. With a breathy _woof_ , Jesse trots into the forest.

Genji flicks the puff away. Little puffs have been showing up all around the house – it must be the deers.

 

\- - -

 

“Were you rolling around in the pines again?”

 

Jesse shakes his head no, pine needles falling every which way. His fur is mattered with sap and he looks particularly...sticky.

“You're an _awful_ liar.” Genji plucks him by the scruff and begins dragging him to the bathroom.

This is where the fight begins.

You need to understand – when he's human, Jesse is actually fairly good at these things. Takes a shower every other day, attempts to keep his beard in presentable order, tries to look like a normal human being.

As a werewolf, he's subject to werewolf whims. It's a far cry between a man's brain and a canine's – Jesse the Man knows not to roll in the pine sap and track mud into the house. Jesse the Wolf will get into the garbage and not give a damn.

Jesse had attempted to explain it awhile ago - _"'s not like I can help it - somethin' 'bout strong smells is just_ _so appealin'._ " They'd gone over the subject for a good two hours and in the end, Genji was just as clueless as he was in the beginning. Jesse summed it up as "it's a werewolf" thing and left it at that.

  
Learning to balance the two takes practice. Sometimes, it's like having a dog, especially when Jesse makes a high pitched howl and takes for the door.

Genji's faster; launches himself and catches Jesse around the middle, planting his feet on the floor. It's pretty difficult to wrestle a full grown werewolf into submission, but Genji's stronger than he looks. It's a slow, laborious process – Jesse trying to escape, Genji trying to get him into the bathroom. He's going to throw his back out, if this keeps up.

Genji gets them to the bathroom (after prying Jesse from the doorframe) and sits back, taking a deep breath. Jesse sits, pouting in the bathtub, his ears flopped over his eyes. _This_ is his workout for the day, Genji decides as he rolls up his sleeves, he's taking a fucking nap after this.

The moment the shower head springs to life, the fight begins once again. Jesse _yowls_ as Genji “calmly” reminds him that if he didn't thrash so much, he wouldn't get soap in his eyes.

 

\- - -

 

Jesse's better for the hair dryer. Which is relieving because there was no way Genji has enough towels to dry him. Jesse pouts but stays still and only complains for a moment when Genji blows too close to his ears. It's actually very nice to see him clean – there's a multitude of colors in Jesse's coat that only appear after a good wash. He's got a good amount of red in him, flecks of yellow, and silver in his chin that make him look pretty distinguished. Jesse darts away when Genji deems the entire process complete. He's rolls in the laundry, trying to get his scent back in his fur (there's something so embarrassing about smelling like baby powder).

Genji drops into bed, pulls the covers over his head, and takes the best snooze he's had all month.

 

\- - -

 

“It's been three days,” Genji says quietly, watching the snow fall. The storm's taken a liking to their home and has decided to stay. Genji's pretty happy he managed to do some grocery shopping in town before they ran out of meat, “Are you stuck?”

At the foot of the bed, Jesse sighs, his body curled into a tight ball. His muzzle nestled into his bushy tail. It seems like he's fast asleep, but Genji knows better. His left ear is slightly raised, his mane not entirely settled. It will be midnight soon, the fourth day just over the horizon. Genji's patient. He knows Jesse needs time. He'll wait but...well, no one likes the waiting game.

He runs his fingers over the marks on his arm, burnt sigils that still hurt when they're pressed hard enough - the skin's raised against the flesh; Genji can make out the words even with his eyes closed 

“I'm not in any hurry.” Genji says, before he rolls over and falls asleep, “But I would like to speak with you again someday.”

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Lacing up his boots, it's hard not to laugh. Jesse's always excitable before the hunt, bouncing about like a fresh whelp. He gives a short bark, pacing at the front door, the bow in his mouth.

“Stop rushing.” Genji murmurs, looking over his equipment and picking up his quiver.

The bow is...a sensitive subject. Not something he likes to dwell on, a moment passed down from a long dead brother. There's etching on the side, neat, tiny kanji that Genji conveniently never reads and sometimes he wonders what his brother would think if he saw his precious bow now. Genji likes to think he'd be amused.

He counts the arrows before strapping the quiver to his back and tightening the holster around his combat knife. Genji takes the bow from Jesse's mouth and steps out into cold, the werewolf bolting around him and into the forest. The snow still falls, the storm calmed considerably but lingering within the pines. He can see a flash of a red tail between the trees.

God bless the hunt.

 

\- - -

 

It's...a little bizarre seeing how Jesse changes while at work.

He goes from goofy and silly to serious at the drop of a hat. His ears are pricked forward, eyes narrowed and searching. Nose to the ground, he quickly picks up a scent, Genji following behind him as fast as he can.

Genji's job is simple. If Jesse can't take his prey down, then it's up to Genji to head it off, distract it, and incapacitate it until Jesse can catch up. It's a dance he's well versed in, one he prides himself on. They compete with one another, who will take down the strongest prey, the most prey, the weirdest prey. The house is rarely without meat.

They make a good team. Jesse is heavy, strong, keen on what's moving in the darkness and Genji is quick on his feet, quick to react, and a well trained killer.

“ _You'd make a good wolf, Genji._ ” Jesse had said once, dragging their kill back to the cottage – they'd spoken on it once or twice. Werewolf venom isn't what you think it is – it's not a “one bite and you've got fur” kind of thing. It's actually pretty dangerous – as the species evolved, the werewolf's venom grew more and more toxic. Plenty have died from the venom alone and those who don't often turn feral within the first few moons and must be put down. Some propose _that_ was the whole reason for the venom turning so lethal. Too many werewolves who went feral too easily, too deformed to mesh with packs, and too unstable to sustain themselves. It would make sense that biology would become selective.

It takes a careful hand to transition a human to a werewolf and it's...quite the commitment. Not one to be taken lightly. They'd categorized as a “we'll cross that bridge when we get to it” and left it at that. Still, there were days where Genji wondered what color his fur would be...

 

 

\- - -

 

Werewolf body language is an art all it's own. It's like any spoken language that's ever existed, it's changed in so many ways and in so many ways stayed the same.

Werewolves naturally walk on all fours – ultimately, it's more natural to them and is faster. Werewolves aren't really made for mortal combat - They can fight with best of the magical creatures, but they don't prefer to.

Much like their four-legged counterparts they're hunters at heart. Speed is a surefire friend when you need to eat.

 

In all honesty, it's always slightly unnerved Genji how fast Jesse switches from two legs, to four legs, back to two. There's distinct differences between the two, differences he's learned how to watch for. A werewolf that walks on all fours is a calm, relaxed one. A werewolf that stands on it's back legs is...well, it's not great, but it's not the worst thing. It's usually a curious one, a nervous one, things of that ilk.

But when a werewolf stands on two and puffs his mane out?

That's **bad.**

 

That's a “this is my place and you need to leave” and a “I have no problem fighting” signal.

Werewolves have thick manes for that reason alone - it's a barrier against teeth and claw and a status symbol (many compare them to lions in that aspect - Genji would argue they're more like peacocks)

 

Genji stops the moment he hears that low, deep growl. Jesse's mane is fully bristled at this point, his claws unsheathed. It doesn't take long to see what's got him so upset: another werewolf, stands not 30 feet away, it's own mane ruffled to it's fullest.

This normally isn't a problem. Jesse's let traveling werewolves pass through his woods before – hell, he invites them to the cabin and gives them a meal.

 

But this is very, very different. This isn't a traveler, this is a conquistador – a werewolf trying to take his territory. It's something of a rite of passage for fledglings, challenging an alpha. They test their teeth against a well aged fighter and, if they lose, learn what to do next time.

Here's the thing - it's standard procedure for fledglings to challenge alphas with _packs._ If they lose, they integrate themselves into the pack and learn from said alpha and his family. Pack alphas lead the tribe, train the children, and sure up the numbers for safety.

Solo alphas are an _entirely_ different ballpark. Pack alphas have their tribe to fall back on to defend their territory, solo alphas are just that - _solo_. They don't have secondary ranks to fall back on, just their own claws and teeth. Solo alphas rarely take in fledglings and especially rarely take in fledglings that challenge them.

Goofy as he can be, Jesse's been the alpha of this forest for well over two decades, since he was a pup. It goes to show, there's a _reason_ for that. In any other case, Genji would consider coming up against him suicide.

The new werewolf's tail wags low and straight, giving his mane a good shake. Sometimes it's all posturing – it's happened once or twice, an upstart pup who thinks he's hot shit and thinks he can take down a king.

Genji readies his bow, eyes trained on the new werewolf - he's only seen a fight get bad once and he'd rather not see it again. Jesse snaps at the air, snarling. The new werewolf responds in kind, stepping forward. They're getting closer and closer, growling and snarling.

 

“Go home” Genji snaps over the barking (he never could keep his ever loving mouth shut) “There's nothing here for you.”

Jesse bristles even more (if possible), his muzzle swinging towards Genji as a signal to “shut up”

Genji's too busy staring at the other werewolf - he's finally noticed the human and the grin he gives makes Genji's hair stand on edge.

  
It happens so fast Genji can't tell you how it started. A flash of fur and teeth and the sharp clack of claws and suddenly they're fighting like their lives depend on it.

 

Genji backs up, pulling the arrow back and steading his hands. His eyes try to track their movements. They're moving so fast, the other werewolf's teeth buried into the crook of Jesse's mane, Jesse kicking with his back legs, trying to tear the other's stomach open. He gets a good kick in, fur going every which way. The new werewolf doesn't seem to notice, digging his claws into Jesse's chest, shaking off a blow from Jesse's mechanical paw.

Genji wants to leap in the fray, to tear the werewolf off of Jesse, but he knows better. In this moment, Jesse's mind is one track and simple - get rid of the problem. Genji leaping in would get them _both_ killed - so he steps back, plants his feet, holds the arrows still and _waits_.

Jesse gives a yelp as the other werewolf grabs a hold of his left ear. There a horrible ripping noise as the skin tears - Genji could _cry_. Jesse's ears are so sensitive, the new werewolf must have picked up on that.

He lets the arrow flight – it makes it's mark. The other werewolf rears back, howling in fury. The werewolf snarls at Genji and Jesse takes the advantage, sinking his teeth into the werewolf's flank. The werewolf trashes, still howling. Jesse flips them both, his teeth still buried in the werewolf's flesh - with a well placed kick, the werewolf launches Jesse back.

 

Jesse launches himself again, but is flung back by the younger werewolf. The other one is gaining the upper hand, he's fast, he's...tricky. He grabs hold of tender areas and shakes his head fiercely to cause the most damage he can. In an awful way, it's actually pretty fascinating, the science of a werewolf fight. If it wasn't _Jesse_ fighting for their ( **their** ) lives, Genji would actually watch nature play it's part.

 

The other werewolf grabs Jesse by the scruff and flings him into a tree and suddenly Jesse just...stills.

  
The panic begins to rise in Genji. He's no lightweight, he can take down magical creatures quick as you please but...a werewolf riding on hormones and blood lust is outside of his ball park.

He can't leave Jesse. He _won't_ leave Jesse, that's out of the question. The second werewolf licks his chops, slowly advancing on him. Genji rips arrows from the quiver, beginning to fire in succession.

He's no marksman, but the arrows find their marks, sinking in deep.

The new werewolf doesn't seem to notice them, too high on adrenaline, ripping the one still lodged on his arm out and careening towards him. With a howl, it leaps at him, throwing them both a good few feet away. They roll together into a clearing, struggling in the snow. Genji thrusts the body of the bow out, catches the werewolf's jaws between the solid wood. The bow's sturdy stuff, reinforced with steel but he can feel the material beginning to creak under the werewolf's back teeth.

 

Struggling, Genji can feel the werewolf's soft underbelly with his feet. He gives a good kick, scrambling back when the beast gives a howl of pain (from the sound of it, he struck lower than intended). The arrows fly everywhere and in the darkness of the forest, he can't find them quickly. He rolls away, one eye still on Jesse's still form.

Genji snatches the combat knife from within it's holster – an anniversary gift from Jesse, believe it or not. He's used to working with stronger stuff, but beggars can't be choosers.

The werewolf snarls at him, lips pulled back all the way. He's beginning to froth, the white spotted with dark red. It's...almost reassuring – Jesse wasn't able to kill him, but he sure as hell was able to _hurt_ him. The corners of it's lips begin to pull upwards. It's a macabre, unnerving smile, his eyes glinting bright yellow. They dance around one another, sizing the other up. The werewolf is obviously unimpressed, smirking.

“you've got spunk,” He snarls around blood-stained teeth, “no wonder he fought so hard to keep you.”

Genji doesn't respond to the taunt, dodges as the werewolf slices forward. It's a dance he knows well – keep them moving in circles, keep them on their feet. Genji's faster, he's agile.

The werewolf steps wrong, twists his left arm forward to strike at nothing and Genji swings, swings twice. Sprays of blood splatter the ground, the smell stinging his nose. The werewolf rears back and Genji gets him on the muzzle. The werewolf howls in pain, stumbling back to grab his nose. The fight's starting to take a toll on him – red meat drips behind the auburn fur. The beast's got murder in his eyes.

  
“ **No one** keeps me.” Genji snarls, leaping back as the werewolf attempts to launch forward. He bounces off the tree behind him, onto the werewolf's back, fingers sinking into the blood-soaked mane. The werewolf bucks, trying to toss Genji off. Genji holds fast, crawling up yanking the werewolf's own left ear and slicing it off. The meat gives way like butter, the werewolf shrieking in pain.

 

An ear for an ear.

 

The werewolf slams his back into a tree. Genji swears he can hear something snap in his ribs. It's like a punch to the gut, the wind being sucked from his lungs, pain blooming immediately. The werewolf slams him again, Genji falls to the ground, his knife clattering away.

He's trying to catch his breath, his hand still clutched around the werewolf's ear. It's a weird moment of stillness, both of them trying to recover.

Genji pulls himself across the ground, seeing the tell tale glint of metal in the darkness.

The werewolf stalks to him on all fours, limping. Blood gushes down his mutilated face – he huffs, bloody, frothy saliva running down his jaws.

 

“i'm going to enjoy taking his land.” He chokes, grabbing Genji by the leg and pulling him back. Genji tries to kick at him again; the werewolf bats his foot away, claws sinking into his thigh. The werewolf looms over him, the paw on his leg transferring to Genji's head. He pushes his face into the snow, his muzzle pressed against Genji's cheek, “but first i'm going to fuck you in front of him. gonna fill you with _my_ pups on his territory.”

Genji growls, struggling. The werewolf stinks of gore, his hot breath starting to make him nauseous.

“gonna keep you for a good long time. make you keep _my_ pack in his home – how's that sound?” The werewolf huffs a chuckle, torn lips pulled into a sneer, “c'mon chatty-kathy, whatcha say to that?”

Genji grumbles something into the ground – The werewolf gives him a good shake. He picks Genji up by the head, ignoring the gasp of pain and turning Genji to look at him, “ _speak up._ ”

“I said,” Genji grins at him, mouth bloody, “You're easily distracted.”

  
Jesse roars, ripping the werewolf off of Genji. It's not a fight this time – it's a massacre. The werewolf doesn't stand a chance and, as Genji leans against a tree to stand, it's a true reminder _why_ Jesse's an alpha.

It's a flurry of fur and claws, bits of flesh, pink and raw. The werewolf's gone from growling and roaring to whimpering and screaming in pain.

Jesse slams him on the ground, forcing his head to look at Genji.

“ **APOLOGIZE.** ” Jesse snarls, claws sinking into the werewolf's skull. His voice is raspy and deep and a strange wave of terror washes over Genji. He's never heard that voice before. A spark of mortal panic leaps within Genji for a moment, this horrible thought of _That's not Jesse, That's a beast, That's not Jesse, That's a beast_ ringing in his ears.

Genji can just make out the tiny “ _i'm sorry_ ” beyond the broken jaw.

 

Genji doesn't look away when Jesse snaps the werewolf's neck. It's really very merciful – the forest isn't kind to the weak, after all. Genji quells that spark of mortal panic - if he was "a beast", Jesse would happily keep him alive, let him suffer. Werewolves heal fast, it would be so easy to keep him alive enough to begin to recover and then return to re-injure him.

 

Jesse is no beast.

 

He heaves a sigh, sitting back on his haunches. He runs a paw through his mane – he's a mess. His fur matted with blood and snow and dirt and mud. His torn ear drips, the flesh hanging limply by a thread. He looks considerably older, Genji thinks.

They've got to get home, get them both bandaged up. Jesse looks like he's been shoved into a meat grinder.

Genji's in no better shape. He's no stranger to setting bones, but he'll need some help with his ribs. The blossoming pain is starting to make his vision swim.

He pushes away from the tree, stumbles to Jesse. Jesse accepts him easily, holding him close, tongue laving out to lick the cuts on Genji's cheeks.

“We are so lucky werewolf spit heals.” Genji grumbles into Jesse's chest.

“Thought I was gonna lose you.” Jesse buries his muzzle into Genji's neck, eyes squeezed shut. Jesse's mane has deflated, his fur hanging and he looks so...tired. They trudge back to the house, leaning heavily on one another. Jesse drags the dead werewolf behind him.

 

The hunt ends.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes.
> 
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>  
> 
> i was at katsucon and met so many nice mccrees. idk if a mean one even exists tbh.
> 
>  
> 
> man this took entirely too long, but i kept getting mixed up in editing. darn you editing. big thank you to everyone who's commented/liked, they really give me life
> 
>  
> 
> sometimes mccree acts more doggish then man like - it's a little more complex than 'werewolf whims'. this is mccree "retirement", in a way - he's had a long, hard life. being a wolf has no pressures, no worries - he can be as free as he wants to.  
> if that includes rolling in your garden because he liked the way your flowers smelled, then so be it!
> 
>  
> 
> genji doesn't like the bow. it feels weird to him. but he made a promise and he's going to keep it goddamn it.
> 
>  
> 
> see you next time~
> 
>  
> 
>    
>  **Find me on**[Twitter](https://twitter.com/OswaldSleepy) and [Tumblr](https://oswaldsleeping.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> 


	3. sepia waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherever i have gone  
> the blues are all the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd. warnings for gore, medical dialogue this chapter
> 
>  
> 
> **yo, big shout out to[my buddy, saintsucrose](https://twitter.com/saintsucrose)  
> **  
>  for helping me think of this title!

  
  


“That hurts!”

“It would not hurt so much if you held still!”

Jesse pouts, grumbling obscenities beneath his breath – this evening certainly did not pan out like he thought it would.

  
  


Despite his preface of “I am not a doctor” and “I am _very_ bad at this”, Genji's attempted to bandage up the scruffy mess that is currently Jesse McCree. Genji may be no Belle, but Jesse certainly is a beast when he's in pain.

“This is getting us nowhere.” Genji sits back, frustrated, his hands bloodstained. The living room is a disaster, the coffee table now an impromptu medical station. Swatches of gauze and stained towels litter the floor, a bowl of once-clean water dripping onto the lacquered surface. They're never going to get that blood out of the carpet, he notes with some dismay as Jesse glares at him, gingerly attempting to reach his tongue to his ear.

Jesse gives up after a moment, wincing – his body hurts too much to move. Genji's attempted to stitch the ear back together, but his stitches are...sloppy at best. He's pulled the thread too taught in some places, too loose in others, and he keeps piercing more of Jesse's ear.

Genji Shimada is no one's medic.

“If you would just let me call-”

“No.”

“Why **not**?”

“'Cause I kin take care'a this by myself.” Jesse's words come out slurred and muttered, but he still has the comprehension to be snappy – a wonderful combination.

“Yes, because this is “taking care of it”, Jesse.” Genji throws the bloodied rag aside, “This is not even _close_ to “taking care of it”. You're injured and I _cannot do this_.”

Jesse huffs, ears flicking on instinct - he gives a sharp yelp as his torn ear lances with pain. Genji jumps at the noise and then sighs, running a blooded hand through his hair.

“I do not understand why you insisted on slobbering on me the moment we got back, instead of letting me get started – if you had, we would be done by now.”

  
  


Jesse snorts – they wouldn't even be close to done. They'd still be bickering like school children, except Genji would be in considerably more pain. He doesn't seem to understand the reality of the situation, Jesse thinks bitterly, as his paws begin to shake. Broken ribs are _dangerous_ ; they could easily kill Genji if he moved wrong. Jesse's so-called “slobbering” wasn't just him trying to be the hero, it was him trying to be preventative (at least, that is what Jesse would call it).

Werewolves are amongst the few magical creatures that have healing abilities – it's in their spit. Like the perceived benefits of a dog's saliva, a werewolf's saliva is strong enough to heal certain broken bones and lacerations.

While Genji's ribs may still be tender to the touch and have a nasty bruise in the morning, they're close to healed, at least.

  
Jealousy tastes like copper.

  
  


It hurts too much to lick himself better. His wounds are bad, the pain thundering beneath his skin. His left haunch is badly torn, his right ankle is swollen and red. Jesse's ribs feel like shattered glass, his back screams in pain, his wrist is out of place, and his entire body is covered in lacerations (really, his one saving grace is that his mechanical arm isn't totally broken). Along with his badly torn ear, he's probably got some bad internal bleeding. His entire body feels like one massive bruise and there's only so much his spit can do.

An average werewolf would be dead after a fight like this.

Jesse is not average.

  
  


“Excuse me for giving a damn about you,” Jesse snaps, wincing as he tries to turn his head. His neck protests soundly.

“I am not made of glass, Jesse, we could have waited.” Genji snaps back, snatching up the bowl of water and storming into the kitchen.

“Look, if you're not gonna help, then quit yakin’ the rest of my ear off.” Jesse struggles to his feet, tail dragging limply behind him. He hobbles into the kitchen behind Genji, leaning against the doorpost in exhaustion.

“You are **hopeless** ,” Genji snarls, tossing the bowl into the sink, “I _am_ trying to help.”

“It don't feel like it,” Jesse could be astoundingly petulant when he wanted to.

Genji ignores the remark, “If you will not allow me to call Angela, then may I at least contact your – ”

“NO!” Jesse roars, biting back a gasp of pain, “ **NOT. THEM.** They'd shit themselves blue if they found out!”

“Then I do not know what you want me to do, Jesse,” Genji exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration, “You struggle when I try to patch you up, you will not let me find outside help, you can barely move on your own, **what is you plan here, Jesse**?! Because from the looks of it, I do not think it is working!”

  
  


Intellectually, Jesse knows this is stupid – Genji does too. He knows they're fighting over something silly. He knows he's making himself look like a jackass.

Intellectually they both know they're fighting because, behind all the anger, they're both _terrified_.

That was more then a close call. They knew close calls, _lived_ by close calls - but this was a _too close_ call and had Genji not had the quick thinking to keep the other werewolf distracted, they would both be dead right now.

Intellectually, Jesse knows all of this. Knows it well.

 

And he's _humiliated_. He nearly got taken out by some greenhorn whelp riding too high on testosterone and too hard on hormones.

He couldn't protect Genji...his own mate, in his own lands, and he nearly lost _everything_.

It's too much to bare. Fear and embarrassment mix together into a soup of _fury_ and goddamned if he's not going to share it.

  
  


“You're too busy pitchin' a fit!!” Jesse's mane bristles in anger, “If you're not gonna help, then just leave!!”

“ _I am trying to help, but you will not let me_!” Genji shouts, turning on Jesse. He's got barely held back tears in his eyes, his face turning a blotchy-red and a tiny voice in Jesse is begging him to stop, begging him to calm down _it's not his fault, he didn't do this, you owe him, you owe him, you owe him_.

“Oh please, you've been tryin' to get outta this from the beginnin'!” that wasn't true – Jesse knew it wasn't.

“What do you _mean_ , “trying to get out of this”, I merely told that I am not good at it!” Genji quickly wipes his eyes before Jesse can really notice how upset he is, “You are being completely unreasonable!”

Jesse's hackles are fully raised and he stomps his (unbroken) foot against the ground, “Unreasonable _my ass_ , the only reason I'm like this is-”

“ **Don't you dare blame this on me!** ” Genji roars and for a moment Jesse's taken aback. Of the two, Genji is the calm one – the level headed creature. He may be stern, he can be cold, he may even raise his voice a decibel or two, but he's never...never sounded like _that_ before, “Jesse McCree you may be in pain, but don't you **dare** try blame me for something that I did not even do.”

  
  


Silence fills the kitchen, chaffing and uncomfortable. Jesse sits back, looking down at his paws and Genji slowly turns back to the sink. He sniffles, rubbing his nose, embarrassed, upset...

' _I nearly lost you_ ' echoes in his brain and yes, he knows they're fighting because they're afraid, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

He cleans the bowl. The sound of running water fills the too-still kitchen.

  
  


Genji feels something press against his side.

  
  


“‘M sorry.” Jesse says softly, eyes tightly shut. There’s a trail of blood leads from the doorpost to beside him. Jesse looks like an old mutt, his mane drooping off his shoulders.

Genji says nothing, waits for Jesse to continue.

“‘m yellin’ at you and you didn’t even do nothin’.”

“I did not.” Genji bites, “I do not appreciate being who you take your anger out on, McCree.”

“You don’t deserve it.” Jesse leans heavily on Genji’s thigh, “‘m just…”

He sighs, takes Genji’s pant leg in his mouth and gives a soft tug. Genji ignores him, continuing to fill the bowl.

Jesse waits patiently. Genji will come down when he’s ready.

After a moment, the water shuts off and Genji turns and sits against the sink’s cabinet, letting Jesse lean against his shoulder.

“I shoulda been able to take him.” Jesse grumbles into Genji’s hair, cold, wet nose pressed against his neck, “Wasn’t even ‘fraid for _me_ , but when I saw him on top’a you...christ, I shouldnt’a even let him get that far.”

“That does not excuse you from yelling at me as if I were the culprit.”

“It don’t. And I am sorry.” Jesse sounds so...tired. He doesn’t attempt to justify it - yelling at his partner isn’t justifiable.

They curl around each other, listening to the snow tap against the kitchen window. Jesse still aches, but he’s...strangely content just sitting by Genji’s side. There’s something warming about Genji’s presence, something grounding.

The pain still thrums, but it’s become background noise.

  
  


“I love you, you dumb mutt.” Genji grumbles against Jesse’s muzzle, “I need you to trust me.”

“I do. I trust you with everythin' in me.” Jesse responds in kind, “But she’s _not_ comin’ into this house.”

“Why not?” Genji’s voice belays the irritation it once held, “She can help. She’d _want_ to help.”

Genji can see it in his face – it's something beyond pride. It's _fear_.

Fear is a strange animal to Jesse, a language he knows well but is loath to comprehend. His lips pull into quiet snarl.

“You know how I grew up. Know what was goin’ on when I was a kid - I know she’d _wanna_ help, but I ain’t ready to let her into my space.” Jesse says honestly.

  
  


Angela is a...tender subject. One they’ve only just begun to broach, even after nearly two decades of being together. Genji nods, running his hands through Jesse’s mane gently - what little he knows is...unnerving at best. Disturbing at worst.

Genji has been good friends with Angela for quite some time - to know what he knows…Well, it’s a topic for another time.

  
  


“Then what do you want to do?” Genji asks patiently, still running his hand through Jesse’s mane, “Because I can think of no other options”

Jesse winces as his ear throbs again.

“Think Lucio makes housecalls?”

  
  


\- - -

  
  


Let it be known that Lucio Correia dos Santos is well known for being the kindest, most generous citizen of the Town of Watchpoint.

Lucio has gained the reputation of being “that guy”, the one everyone says hello to in passing, the one that everyone knows and likes. He’s right up there with Father Winston and Athena - everyone gets a personal greeting from Lucio when they move into the town and, if they ever move out, a personal goodbye.

He’s grown a cult of personality that's built on community and togetherness that just draws people towards him, the golden boy of Watchpoint.

It’s just who Lucio is - he’s the kind of guy that genuinely loves what he does, loves the people around him, loves living life to it's fullest.

  
Let it also be known that **ALL** of that goes out the window if you wake him up.

  
  


They lean on one another to get Jesse back into the living room before Genji calls. He hefts Jesse onto the couch, grimly noting the couch's irate groan under the werewolf's weight. Jesse's half hanging off, his tail flopping uselessly over the arm.

Genji presses a chaste kiss on Jesse's blood-caked forehead and then walks back into the kitchen.

  
  


Jesse's always been impressed with Genji's speaking skills – the boy can spin a tail that could charm the rattle off a rattlesnake (which helps when working with a sleep-addled Lucio).

Genji sugar coats the story as well as he can, making sympathetic faces with Jesse whimpers – the pain in his back is starting to overwhelm the pain in his ear. Genji paces the kitchen floor, eyes furrowed as he speaks with Lucio.

“He wants to talk to you.” Genji kneels beside Jesse, handing him the phone – Jesse fumbles with it for a moment, his paw practically dwarfing the flimsy bit of plastic.

  
  


“'ey Luce.”

“ _Genji tells me you won't let him call Angela up there. Would you mind telling me_ _ **why?**_ _”_

Oh, he knows that voice.

That is _not_ a good voice.

Jesse winces, running his other paw over his eyes.

“It ain't really somethin' I wanna go into right now, Luc-”

“ _And yet you want me to show up, despite the fact that she's closer and it's_ _ **4 in the goddamned morning**_ _.”_

He is in a _world_ of trouble. Jesse grimaces; he can hear a sleepy “ _Was ist es?”_ in the background.

“C'mon Lucio, you ain't gonna let your old pal just lay here, are you?” Jesse tries to joke; his ribs hurt too much to laugh, instead sending him into an awful coughing fit.

Lucio groans on the other end of the line, muttering curses under his breath, “ _Put Genji back on the phone_.”

Jesse shoves the phone back to Genji, happy to be out of the proverbial hot seat. Genji walks back into the kitchen, still talking to Lucio in low, hushed tones (but Jesse still makes out the sardonic “ _Yes I told him – Yes I'd happen to agree_ ” that he really doesn't appreciate).

  
  


He can hear the kitchen sink flowing, Genji filling a glass of water as he talks, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing and things being moved about. Jesse closes his eyes, trying to let his body relax.

Years ago, Genji brought his old master to visit the town – Zenyatta was a pleasant fellow, albeit a little bit unnerving to be around. Something about Shambali eyes, the way they _all_ look directly into your very being...it took him some time to get comfortable around Zenyatta.

He's glad he did – the monk taught him breathing exercises that got him through breaking his nicotine habit. He does them now, deep breath _in_ , wait three seconds, deep breath _out_. Pain keeps it's hooks in him, but he still gives it a good effort, letting his mind concentrate on the things that keep him calm – the flowers in spring, the smell of a roaring fire, the taste of melted vanilla ice cream.

He presses his muzzle into the couch's pillow – it smells so much like Genji and, for a moment, Jesse has to muse on how much of a sap he really is.

  
  


\- - -

  
  


“He will be here any minute,” Genji walks back into the living room, kneeling beside Jesse, “We need to get you back into the kitchen.”

“What? Don't wanna ruin yer nice pillows?” Jesse jokes, struggling to get his weight beneath him – Genji lifts him up, letting Jesse lean on him once more, “Why'd ya even bring me in here, if you were just gonna put me back?”

“Because you would complain endlessly about your back, and they are already ruined, mutt,” Genji grunts, “That blood will never come out.”

“Think 'bout it this way – it's a great conversation starter.”

“I am _not_ letting people into this house until we've gone proper furniture shopping,” Genji laughs good heartedly, “I've been meaning to do that, our style is wildly out of date.”

“I'll never get you and yer fancy-dancy trends,” Jesse snorts – Genji's shoved the dinning table and chairs out of the way, giving them a good berth of space. There's a puddle near the kitchen sink that Genji pointedly ignores.

“That is why I do not let you decorate.” Genji sits against the cabinets, “I still cannot believe what you suggested for our bedroom.”

“Who _doesn't_ love western wallpaper?” Jesse flops against the cool tile, his tail wagging weakly. Something about the cool soothes the pain; he groans, stretching out his good leg and pulling his bad one to his chest, “All them buckin' broncos! I think _yer_ just uptight.”

“That may be, but at least we do not sleep on a waterbed.”

“Just think of all the momentum you can get on one'a those!”  
“You are a dirty man, Jesse McCree.”

  
  


Given the circumstances, it's probably strange to see them laughing about something so...inconsequential.

But sometimes in a crisis, all you can do is laugh at the silly things – at least, that's how Jesse views it. He scoots close to Genji, laying his head on Genji's thigh and thinks, just for a moment, of how life runs in a loop. He can remember this almost exact scenario in his childhood, sitting in the tiny kitchen with his parents, while they patched each other up and laughed at the ugly painting sitting in their front room.

He needs to call them. He's not on speaking terms with Papi, but he misses Dad's peach cobbler, his awful puns...

Funny, he hadn't really thought about them until just now...

 

“Next time you see 'im.” Jesse mutters, his eyes fluttering shut, “Can you invite my Dad up to the house? For dinner, or somethin'?”

“Just your father?” Genji runs his hands through Jesse's mane once more, Jesse's heartbeat is steady under his fingers – if anything, Genji isn't worried about Jesse dying.

Not _too_ worried, at least. Jesse McCree is too stubborn to die.

“Papi too...if he ain't bein' a jackass.”

“Can you not call them yourself?” Genji asks softly – it's not meant to be catty. He knows everything about Jesse's estrangement with his parents, from their slow mending process to how easily they all get at each other's throats – Jesse and his Papi in particular. The last time they talked it..hadn't ended well, Genji remembers grimly.

“I could,” Jesse nods gingerly, “But you're in town more then I am. You'll probably see them sooner.”

“You could join me, Jesse.” Genji leans down and presses his mouth against Jesse's good ear, “Everyone forgets you live up here. They all assume I live on my own in the woods – I have never understood your desire to be so solitary.”

Of course he wouldn't, Jesse thinks. It's not a slight against Genji, it would only make sense that he wouldn't.

Werewolves aren't always welcome in polite society. Time has softened public reactions to werewolves (or any were-creatures for that matter), but the misconceptions still run rampant – werewolves are rabid creatures, werewolves are always hunting and hungry, werewolves will turn on you at the drop of a hat. Never mind the fact that werewolves are no different than any magical creature in that there are those who are contributing citizens and those who are feral.

It's a painful stereotype, one he'd tried to rise above since he was a kid. He was...pretty lucky, actually – his parents reassured him that his werewolf blood meant nothing more than that – that he wasn't a freak, he wasn't a rabid beast, he wasn't a monster. That he was no different than the other kids, just a little hairier.

  
  


“Either way...if you can?” Jesse grumbles, feeling lightheaded, “I ain't had my Dad's macaroni in a long time...guess I kinda miss it.”

Genji reads between the lines easily; makes a soft humming sound in the back of his throat and pulls Jesse close to his chest, “He says he misses you every time I see him. Your papi does as well.”

“No he don't.” Jesse grumbles, the lightheaded feeling making his tongue heavy and fat in his mouth, “He told me _exactly_ what he thought of me last time we talked.”

“He said those things in anger,” Genji murmurs, “He's not the only one with that habit, Jesse.”

“I know he ain't.” Jesse huffs, “He was still-”

“Wrong. Yes, he was still wrong.” Genji finishes for him, “But you said things you did not mean as well. Maybe it is time to sit down and _really_ talk about what has gone on between you two.”

“...Maybe.” Jesse concedes softly, “I just-”

  
  


“This conversation is _lovely_ ,” an irritated voice echoes from near the kitchen sink, “But I would _really_ love to get back to sleep sometime soon.”

There's a dark arm waving from the puddle near the kitchen sink.

  
  


Genji sits up, frowning.

“Good morning Lucio. Did I not make the portal large enough?” He asks, standing.

“Yeah – can you?”

“Of course.” Genji hurries to the sink, filling the cup with more water. When it's sufficiently fully, he leans down, pouring the water out in a more spread pattern. The water seeps together, the puddle growing, a strange sort of glimmer coming from it's surface.

  
  


First one dark arm comes out the water – and then the other. Genji grabs the hands, hefting Lucio out of the puddle. It's a bit of a squeeze getting Lucio's hips through, but after careful twisting and turning, he's free, leaning on their kitchen island with a huff. Genji pulls his shirt sleeve up to his shoulder and reaches into the water, grabbing Lucio's crutches and handing them to him.

“You owe me _big time_.” He growls, eyeing Genji, “Do you know how hard it is to navigate puddles at 4 AM?”

“Really? I would have thought it would be much easier – who really spills water this early in the morning.” Genji pulls a dishtowel from under the sink, sopping the water up.

“You'd be surprised.” Lucio grunts, leaning heavily on his crutches. Puddle hopping is pretty exhausting work, especially when you aren't working at 100% capacity.

  
  


“Ain'tcha gonna say nothin' to yer patient, doc?” Jesse groans from the tile, lifting his head gingerly, “I'm _dyin_ here.”

“Don't be dramatic,” Lucio snaps goodheartedly, “You called in the _professional_ , you're not dying on my watch.”

Jesse grunts a laugh, smirking, “That's what I like to hear.”

  
  


Lucio makes his way to Jesse, looking him over – from the face Lucio makes, it's...not a pretty sight. Jesse groans, laying his head against the tile once more – even the best doctors have to work on their bedside manner, he guesses.

“I'm going to need a _lot_ of snow, Genji.” Lucio eases himself onto the ground, “Did you get the stuff I told you?”

“Oh, yes. Here.” Genji grabs a great armful of things from the counter, struggling to bring them all over without dropping them, “I wasn't able to find aloe, however?”

“I can make do.” Lucio helps him spread the goods on the floor, slowly looking over each item. And then he claps his hands together and looks and Jesse.

“Let's do this.”

  
  


\- - -

  
  


The Town of Watchpoint is home to many people. Many races, many creeds, many religions and beliefs. It is welcoming to every gender, every identity, and every ideology.

It would only make sense that the Town of Watchpoint is also home to a number of magical creatures.

  
  


This is, of course, not talk for polite society. Just like you wouldn't ask a dark skinned person “where they're from”, you just don't ask a magical creature what kind of creature they are – it's just good manners. The town's population is skewed, with a good 76% being magical creature, 20% being human, and the last 4% being “undisclosed”.

Despite it's “fantastical” origins, the Town works like any other town does – it has business' and schools and government and no one really blinks an eye when the mermaids in the park decide to sunbathe in the fountain, or Emily's pet orthros decides to walk itself down to Ana's for a mid-day biscuit.

Watchpoint is very much the town where “everybody knows everybody” - at least 99% of it's residents are linked together somehow.

  
  


This is the only reason Lucio would consider navigating water portals at 4 in the morning for one Jesse McCree – despite his youthful appearance, Lucio has known Jesse a _long_ time.

Genji helps Lucio ease onto the ground and cross his legs comfortably **–** it's hard to go from a tail to legs, after all.

  
  


It's easy to confuse Lucio for a mermaid turned human. He doesn't hold it against anyone – most of the time he'll even just roll with the question, more willing to wear the tag of “the little mermaid” than explain what a Siren is.

Much like the common werewolf, sirens have a “tarnished” reputation. While mermaids are seen as delicate, shy, and demure, sirens are viewed as the mirror opposite – dangerous, lustful, evil creatures that lure sailors to their utter despise and cast black magic on unsuspecting people.

This, despite the fact that the _mermaid_ is a known ravenous beast who will happily eat anything that moves and is borderline feral. It's almost like comparing dogs to wolves – both are smart, both are resourceful, but one is tame and bidden while the other is a wild animal.

Lucio can't really tell why Sirens went from creatures with wings to creatures with tails – somewhere along the line, when the original three fell into the sea, their unknown offspring leapt with them, unwilling to be without their mothers. Those who could not swim drowned, those who could taught their offspring, who taught their offspring, who began to adapt and change with the waters.

The one thing most people get right is that sirens are better spell casters then their better known cousins. Siren magic is longer lasting and much stronger than many practicing witches – they're no easy prey and are on the upper end of intelligent magical creatures.

Lucio spread his supplies around him, mentally cataloging them. He directs Genji in moving Jesse onto his back, back legs stretched out, front paws pressed against his sides, his bleeding belly open to the world. Jesse gives a sharp whimper – no animal wants to be on their back, _especially_ when they're in pain. He knows Lucio won't hurt him, knows Genji will stop Lucio if anything goes wrong but the niggling fear still settles in the back of his mind.

Lucio speaks Genji through mashing this herb and pouring that water – like a well oiled machine, they work around each other, until the kitchen smells strongly of lavender and the bite of winter. Between his hands, water twirls in a constantly-morphing ball, a shimmer starting to glow from the very center. Bits and pieces of herbs float inside, flowing back and forth as Lucio begins to stretch and twist it like taffy.

It's a kind of magic Genji's never taken the time to learn; now he wished he had. South American sirens aren't known for their healing magic, no siren is. The normal siren studies weather magic, moon magic...magic that keeps their ocean steady and flowing, to keep their voices strong and limber.

Lucio is a first of his kind, having studied ancient healing magics and created his own. He works quickly and carefully, his eyes darting this way and that, chanting soft melodies under his breath.

  
  


Genji presses a soft hand against Jesse's flank, brushing the soft fur back and forth. It's...soothing. He gives another soft whimper, lifting his left paw up to brush a claw against Genji's cheek. His vision is darkening at the edges but...well, if he had to chose a last sight, this would be it.

  
  


“Okay.” Lucio says finally, leaning over Jesse, “We're gonna get started. You ready, Jess?”

“Guess so.” Jesse grumbles, eyes still trained on Genji, “See you when I wake up, Gen'.

  
  


Lucio presses the water ball against Jesse's chest. It sinks in slowly; his body quickly goes limp and relaxed and soon, Jesse is fast asleep.

  
  


\- - -

  
  


He dreams in sepia tones and warm smells. He can feel Genji's lips on his mane, speaking quietly.

Ht's almost like he's sitting in a movie theater, watching home movies on a poorly lit screen.

  
  


He remembers being a boy. Remembers being afraid of water for so long and then learning that there was nothing to fear. Feels himself being held close as the waves lapped against his side and rocked him back and forth.

  
  


He is four. He likes steak and chicken and doesn't like brussels sprouts, but will happily snack on dry spinach. He likes melted vanilla ice cream (only vanilla, because daddy won't let him eat chocolate, cried the last time Jesse snuck a Hershey kiss – Jesse had a wicked headache after that) and the way the dirt smells after it rains. He likes to sit in Papi's lap and watch him create little dancing figures in the afternoon light and listen to Papi weave stories like spiderwebs.

  
  


The kids at school pick on him for his weird eyes and pointy teeth and his hairy arms. Jesse knows he's different – he's not like Daddy and he's not like Papi, he's not like _any_ of the children and sometimes, when he tries to play with them, the other kid's mammas pull them away.

  
  


(Over time, Jesse will learn why – who wants their child to play with a werewolf?)

  
  


Daddy sits him down and tells him they'll teach him at home from now on. That he'll have to do some tests at school, but he'll do his learning in the living room. Miss Zeigler brings over the workbooks and texts and smiles sadly at Jesse – Papi doesn't smile when she's around. Jesse thinks that's weird.

  
  


The scene changes – they're in the lake next to their house. Summer is in full swing, the air humid and the mosquitos buzzing loudly. Jesse clings to Daddy's chest as Daddy walks slowly into the water, talking to him the entire time. When Jesse's scared, his body transitions and Daddy won't stop messing with his fur, gently tugging on the tufts on his cheeks.

  
  


“There you go – not that cold, right?” Daddy laughs, walking slowly. The water up to his chest – Jesse's still holding onto Daddy, refusing to let go. His eyes are shut tight, his ears flat against his skull.

“'Don't wanna.” Jesse whimpers, nails digging into Daddy's shoulder, “'kin we go back now?”

“Just hold on for a few more minutes,” Daddy reassures him. Jesse stays quiet, his muzzle buried into Daddy's shoulder, trying not to cry out when the water finally hits his back. They're moving slowly, swaying in the lake's rhythm and soon they're floating like leaves. Jesse looks up at Daddy's face, studying the laugh lines in his cheeks, his dark blue eyes, the strands of silver in his golden hair – he looks so relaxed, but Jesse can feel the muscles in Daddy's body, how they work to keep themselves afloat, “You're being so brave for me.”

“'Don' wanna be brave.” Jesse pouts, shivering. The water really isn't that bad – it's a cool, but not cold, totally clear. When Jesse peaks around Daddy he can see the bottom of the lake, branches and rocks clustered at the bottom. It looks so close, like he can reach out and touch that pretty silvery-blue stone set against the fallen tree's trunk.

  
  


Daddy keeps messing with Jesse's fur – he's getting pretty fluffy, his fur poofed in every direction at this point. Daddy's got a weird way of grooming, his tongue pulling back Jesse's fur until he looks like a giant cotton ball.

“See – it's not so bad, is it?” Daddy grunts, moving around until he's floating. He maneuvers Jesse onto his back, the sun warming his fur. Jesse can feel Daddy's heartbeat against his spine, “Wave to your Papi.”

Jesse manages a weak wave, his paw flopping out of the water. Papi laughs, waving back at him.

Papi's not fond of water, prefers to sit on the edge of the lake with his big sunglasses and oversized sunhat. Jesse thinks it makes Papi look funny (Daddy happens to agree). Papi says it's because “he doesn't need to tan anymore” - he really doesn't. Papi's a deep, rich brown that Jesse always thought was particularly beautiful.

Daddy, on the other hand, is really pale. Daddy _does_ need to tan more, in Jesse's opinion.

  
  


“Why don't Papi gotta come out here?” Jesse asks grumpily, his tail tucked between his legs. Daddy laughs, reaching one arm to pull them further into the center of the lake.

“Because your father's too stubborn to learn how to swim.”

“I heard that!” Papi yells from the shore, “I can swim!”

“Doggy paddling is _not_ swimming, Gabriel!” Daddy calls back, pressing a sticky kiss to Jesse's ear, “And just because you're a pup, doesn't mean doggy paddling is all _you're_ going to do, young man.”

“But I ain't like you!” Jesse grumps, “I ain't a s-sehelhkey!”

Daddy laughs – Jesse thinks his laugh sounds nice. It's deep and heavy, like the clang of a spoon against a pot.

“You may not be a _selkie_ , Jesse,” Daddy floats on the water easily, “But you're going to learn to swim like one.”

Jesse thinks that's silly. But he doesn't pretest when Daddy fluffs up his mane even more – he trusts Daddy, trusts that Daddy won't let him drown.

...somewhat.

“Okay, you're good...” Daddy says quietly, his legs still kicking under the water, “Now I'm going to get you something – you're going to wait right here, okay?”

“Wha-No!!” Jesse scrambles, his little claws still holding onto Daddy's arm, “No, no don't leave me!”

“I'm not leaving you – I'll be right beneath you.” Daddy says calmly, nuzzling Jesse close, “You can do this.”

“No I can't!” Jesse practically wails – he can see Papi watching from the shore, a frown starting to form on his face – what was Daddy doing?! Was he just going to let him drown?!

“Yes you can.” Daddy says, in that same calm voice, “Remember, we've practiced this?”

They had – Daddy would let him float in the bathtub, his arms beneath him. They'd even gone swimming in the local pool once or twice – but never in the lake and Daddy never let him go!

“B-but!”

“Jesse – you need to trust yourself.” Daddy says sweetly, pressing another sticky kiss to his forehead, “And trust me. Do you really think I'd let you drown?”

Jesse flopped his ears, “N-no...but I'm _scared_.”

“I know. When I was learning how to swim, I was scared too.”

Jesse's ears perked – Daddy's never scared of anything!

“You were?”

“Yup. But then I realized my mother wouldn't let me sink – and I won't let _you_ sink.”

Daddy's arms slowly let him go, Jesse still laying on his chest. Jesse can feel water flowing between them, the lake starting to gently rock him back and forth.

“Now you take one _big_ breath and you count to ten. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes daddy.”

“And when you say ten, I'll be back. Okay?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Okay. Ready?” Jesse closes his eyes tight, his paws and tail tucked into himself.

“I...I think so.”

“One big gulp – _go_!”

Jesse takes the biggest breath he can manage and, suddenly, Daddy isn't there anymore – he's _floating_ on his own. Unbeknownst to him, his fur is fluffed up enough that he won't sink (but looking back on it, Jesse doesn't think that knowledge would have quelled his fear)

  
  


“1!” Jesse shouts, as he begins to float in circles, “2! 3!”

He can feel the water move passed him, something speeding beneath him. Jesse tries not to think about it, concentrating on his numbers, “4! 5!”

What if Daddy doesn't come back? What if he'll be stuck here, what if he sinks!!

“6! 7! 8!”

Why would Daddy do this?! Why would Papi just let him?! What if they just leave him to float forever and ever and ever?!

“9! 10!!”

  
  


Arms grab him up and he's pulled against a hard chest. Jesse yowls in alarm, claws sinking into the flesh that surrounds him and, suddenly, he's moving back to the shore. Papi is clapping and he hears Daddy's laugh behind him.

“I'm so proud of you, Jesse!”

When he gets to the shore, Papi grabs him up, throws him high in the air and catches him. Jesse squeals in delight, tail wagging gleefully. Daddy plucks him from Papi's arms and, with gentle fingers, opens his paw, drops that silvery-blue stone in, and closing his paw around it.

It's prettier in the sunlight.

  
  


After resting by the shore, Daddy takes him out into the lake once more – this time, Jesse's less afraid.They practice and they practice - He floats like a good boy and Daddy always comes back with a treat, a piece of colorful driftwood, a snail with three circle dots, a perfectly pink fish that they both tear into when Daddy takes him back to the shore. By the end of it, Jesse's paddling behind Daddy, his muzzle above the water, his feet splashing.

He's never seen Daddy look so happy.

  
  


\- - -

  
  


They love him – that much he knows, they'd move heaven and earth for their son.

  
  


It's a strange little family they've created – a lunar witch who can _barely_ control his abilities, a selkie who's skin was destroyed, and an underweight werewolf.

Thinking back on it, there isn't a time he can remember where he _wasn't_ with his parents – they cared from him since birth, he guesses. He went from a stumbling toddler to a fully grown teenager and they still called him _Jessito_.

  
  


The scene changes again – he's hiding by the stairs, listening to his parents in the kitchen. They're arguing, yelling and screaming. They're fighting about Jesse, they're _always_ fighting about Jesse now. He doesn't understand – Papi wants to tell Jesse something, Daddy says it's not time yet.

They continue to bicker, back and forth, back and forth. It's been going on for days (in reality, it was only for an hour and a half – it certainly feels like _days_ for a child) and it didn't seem like they were stopping.

Jesse wants to cry. But crying is for babies and he's _not_ a baby. He's 10 years old now, he's nearly a grown boy!

He still sneaks back into his bed and sobs into his big, stuffed gorilla – if he's quiet, no one will ever know.

  
  


Papi stops arguing first - He's always had good hearing, better than anyone Jesse's met. He can hear the tiny sniffles and coughs.

His parents quiet quickly and creep upstairs, curling themselves around Jesse's shaking body and whispering apologizes.

  
  


He'll learn a lot as he gets older, about things that he wanted to know and things he _really_ didn't. There are things about Papi that scare him, things about Daddy that _terrify_ him.

It causes contention between the family – there are things Jesse's angry about, things Jesse _hates_ them for.

It's not their fault – how he was born, who he is...these are all just the cards life has dealt him.

Doesn't mean he can't hold a grudge.

  
  


He dreams of fire. A giant ball of fire that tumbles down the hallways. The smell of burnt skin and hot cinderblock. Arms that wrap him up and hold him so tight. Thinks of watching the moon play shadows on his ceiling, while his stump of an arm lays motionless beside him.

Of Mr. Lindholm who scared him with his grumpy demeanor, but showed him pictures of his children and would sneak him fancy candies when Daddy has his back turned.

  
  


He dreams of guitars, of Daddy's bizarre love of folk music, of the sound of Papi typing in the next room, of how the _blues_ , how the _blues are all the same._ Of Tia Ana and her sharp eyes and soft mouth and how she always called him _habibi,_ and the soft hands of Reinhardt who would hoist him in the air without fear of this once underweight werewolf.

  
  


Of Papi holding him on his shoulders as sharply dressed men in skull masks and women with beautiful dresses dance around him and how his abuelita always pinched his cheeks and wanted to hug him for hours on end.

  
  


Of the water he was once so afraid of and now takes to like a fish, and how he feels like he's one with the waves when he swims.

Of the forest and how Papi told him to always listen close to the trees, for the trees have seen it all.

Of cherry blossoms. Of the misty hills, and the pluck of shamisen

Of Genji.

  
  


Of Genji.

  
  


Of Genji.

  
  


\- - -

  
  


  
  


“There.” Lucio wipes sweat from his brow, his dreads pulled back into a neat ponytail, “I think that's it.”

Genji sits back, exhausted. He closes his eyes, rubbing his fingers against his temples, “Is it a bad thing that I am afraid?”

“Nope.” Lucio looks over the sedated werewolf – their supplies are used, there's blood and fur and little pink bits of skin scattered across the floor. It's going to take a good few hours for clean up...

But from the looks of the silver-glowing thread embedded in Jesse's belly...

“Jesse's going to be fine, but it's totally normal to be scared.” Lucio murmurs, running a hand over the stitches, “A few days of rest and he'll be back to normal. We're lucky, the only thing I really can't fix is his arm.”

Genji sighs – Jesse's mechanical arm is sturdy, made of hearty material. He's had the thing since he was a young teen; it's one of a kind, able to transform with him painlessly. They'll have to pay a visit to Tobjörn's shop in the next few days to make sure there's no internal damage.

 

“How are you?” Lucio's voice breaks through Genji's haze. Genji watches him, the bags beneath his eyes dark and deep, “How are _you_ holding up?”

Genji...well, he doesn't know. It would be easy to say “I'm okay, thanks for your concern” and leave it at that, but Lucio's good at worming out the truth, “I feel...powerless.”

Genji stands and begins to clean – Lucio plucks the mess off the ground as best he can, tossing it all into one of the used bowls.

“How so?”

“I...I could have done so much more...If it wasn't for this stupid-”

“Genji, from what I'm getting, if you hadn't been there, Jesse would be dead right now.” Lucio interrupts him, frowning, “I'm not saying things would have been super different, but it sounds like you're nowhere close to “helpless”.”

Genji takes the dirtied bowls and dumps the mess into the trashcan – he throws them into the sink, watching the still wet blood drip down the drain.

“It's been five years, Lucio.” Genji grips the sink's edge, “And I _still_ can't break this curse. If I could...it wouldn't have been a problem at all.”

Lucio works his way up, leaning on his crutches. He eases over to Genji, eyeing the dark runes painted on the inside of his arms.

“You gotta give it time.”

“But how _much_ time?!” Genji hisses, snatching his arm and sinking his fingers in, “I'm so _sick_ of being stuck in his god-awful body and being so...powerless!”

Lucio smiled sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on Genji's shoulder, “You're not powerless, Gen. You just have a different _kind_ of power.”

Genji sighs, letting his arm fall against his side and running his hand through his hair. Red crescent marks dot his pale skin, the runes seeming darker in the yellow light of the kitchen.

“It doesn't feel like it.” He says honestly, his head bowed.

“Yeah. It probably feels pretty crummy.”

  
  


\- - -

  
  


They both work Jesse back into the living room, letting him lay in front of the fireplace. He's still fast asleep, his chest raising and falling slowly and steady and it's a comforting sight, to say the least.

Clean up is a slow process – Genji decides he's going to do the bare minimum now, take care of the rest when he wakes up. Lucio helps where he can, trying to be a reassuring precess.

“I really do owe you,” Genji says quietly, helping Lucio ease back into the puddle portal – it's getting close to 6:30 in the morning – Reinhardt is going to start wondering what happened.

“Yeah you do.” Lucio snorts, “But I'll put it on your tab. You'll pay me back later.”

“I'll make sure of that.” Genji chuckled. Lucio grabs his hand, squeezes it for a moment and then sinks into the puddle.

And then Genji is alone again. Just the sound of the falling snow, and the dying fire, and soft snores of his werewolf partner.

Genji drags himself to the bloodstained couch and flops down, his entire body sinking into the plush fabric.

It wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for a second.

Would it?

  
  


\- - -

  
  


Jesse swims back to consciousnesses slowly, taking deep, lazy breaths.

  
  


Genji is fast asleep, curled up against the couch, his arms warped around a soft pillow.

The snow has slowed to a gentle flurry. Jesse watches Genji for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest and thinks, for one good, long minute, that he's done nothing to deserve a lover like Genji.

And then he transforms. Fur recedes, claws shorten, fangs shrink – he is the man once more.

  
  


Naked and aching, Jesse loops his arms under Genji's legs and back, and caries him upstairs to his bedroom. It's...been awhile since he's had skin.

It's nice to be able to feel Genji's body against his.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowie zowie this took a long time
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> every fic i've written in the last two years has some sort of Jackson C. Frank reference - i think it's starting to become an obsession. It's something about folk music, ♬it puts the music in me♫♪  
>  that was a horrible joke i'm sorry
> 
> So the Town of Watchpoint has a lot more going on for it then werewolves. It's pretty diverse for small town Americana. Ironically, the harpy population is actually fairly small - they prefer the mountains to the town, but that's another story for another time.
> 
>   
> **VOTE NOW: IS FATHER WINSTON A GORILLA OR A MAN IN A GORILLA SUIT**  
>  If you look back in the story, you'll notice that I've edited a few things to better fit the narrative. Needless to say, there's a _lot_ Genji hasn't told us yet.
> 
> Jesse's the nostalgic kind. He thinks a lot about Genji, but his best memories are the little things - Genji cooking, Genji painting, Genji sleeping. He's a lovesick old hound dog and, sure, Genji makes fun of him for it (but he really loves it all the same) 
> 
> Jesse still swims like a fish when he gets a chance. He's met other werewolves that were terrified of the water and refused to even go near it - it's just not normal for werewolves to swim, after all. But like I said - Jesse's far from a normal werewolf.
> 
> Oh Angela - what's your story?
> 
> Emily's orthros is named Pepperjack Cheese, but everyone calls her Pupperoni for short
> 
>    
>  **Find me on**[Twitter](https://twitter.com/OswaldSleepy) and [Tumblr](https://oswaldsleeping.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> 


	4. the wolves go out to the woods today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When hiking, make sure to pack all essentials such as spare bottles of water, extra socks, and heating packs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for sex, burials

Genji wakes up alone.

 

It's light outside. The light grey cloud coat the sky, lumbering northwest slowly. He sits up, looks around. The pillow beside his is cold, Jesse's side neatly made. He's half naked, in a sleeping tank and panties, his clothes tossed into the hamper.

Cool panic begins to run down Genji's spine. He doesn't remember coming up this room, doesn't remember getting undressed – he yanks on the closest thing he can find (Jesse's beloved serape) and stumbles down the stairs, ignoring the bitter cold that bites at his heels.

“Jesse? Jesse!” He calls, looking wildly around their living room. He's not even sure why he's panicking – Lucio said he'd be fine, they were alone...but for whatever reason, he couldn't help but wonder if the other werewolf was still alive, if they'd dragged a dazed and potentially rabid animal back to their house.

He runs into the kitchen, throwing open the back door.

 

“The hell you yellin' for?” Jesse jumps as the door slams against the cabin's siding, “I kin hear you just fine!”

Genji's breathless. For a moment, he stares at Jesse, stares at hunched way the battered man sits on their porch, stares at the bruises that are starting to yellow and fade across his back. His hair is pinned back for once, letting his healing ear breathe.

Genji quietly walks over to Jesse and drapes himself across Jesse's back, burying his nose against Jesse's neck and giving a quiet sob.

He's not a crier. Never has been – for someone who, for a time, was outwardly bombastic, he's actually got a very shallow range of emotions. But it's like the bottled fear and terror has come pouring out, sweeping him away with the flood.

Jesse clicks his tongue and reaches around, adjusting them until Genji is sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder, his serape draped over them both. Genji's arms are looped around his shoulders, his nose still buried into Jesse's neck.

He cries until his nose hurts and his cheeks are flushed – he's not a crier. But it feels good to cry.

 

 

\- - -

 

In the stillness of the day, it's easy to forget it's not really winter.

 

“Been a weird March, eh?”

Genji nods, tucking his feet under himself, leaning against Jesse's side. It's horribly cold, he's starting to regret running out without getting dressed, “Yes. I hope Mei's experiment went well.”

“You're snuggly today,” Jesse smiles, pulling the serape back over them and patting a big, warm hand across Genji's thigh, “Usually, you don't even wanna hold hands.

Genji shrugs and turns his head, nipping Jesse's ear – Jesse gives a sharp snort, nudging him back.

He attention turns back to the thing in his hand – he's been whittling in the morning sunshine, his lap covered in a fine ivory dust. Genji watches him, eyes lazily watching Jesse's hands twist and turn the white thing around his knife, his warn fingers moving with an easy grace.

“Did you know him?”

“Naw,” Jesse moves the knife slowly, “But I smelled his pack a week ago, back when the deer were migratin' back. Guess he decided to break off with them – happens sometimes, upstarts get it in their head they don't wanna follow their alpha no more, think they can lead better.”

“How old was he?”

There's a distinct unease as Jesse sets his whittling beside him and folds his hands between his legs. His feet swing freely over the side of the porch. Little dark purple flowers are starting to poke through the snow. Resilient little fuckers, even through the storm.

“Couldnt'a been older than 22,” He murmurs, observing the still forest, “Barely had his mane grown in. Still had somma that baby fuzz on his chest. Aint that a bitch?”

He heaves a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, “Not a great feelin', known' you killed someone's pup.”

“He tried to kill you,” Genji points out softly.

“Yeah. I don't even wanna think about what he was gonna do to you...,” Jesse huffs, “Still...guess I see a lil' of myself in him. How I was when you started runnin' with me.”

“I think you have that backwards,” Genji laughs softly, nipping Jesse's ear again.

“Maybe. Gotta wonder who corrupted who more.”

They sit still, cocooned in the serape. The door to the shed is open, Genji notes, the inside dark. If he concentrates, he thinks he can see a giant, hairy lump on the shed floor.

 

“What will you do?” _with the body,_ is left unsaid. He tilts his head toward the door.

Jesse sighs, “Can't really drag him back to his pack – too big. And I don't think they'd appreciate it none anyway.”

 

He lifts the ivory thing from the porch, turning it over in his hand – it's really a lovely object, the polished ivory inlaid with curling flowers and twisting vines. Genji gently plucks the thing from Jesse's hands, tracing a superbly curled dahlia with his finger. Jesse's artistic talent is a thing few people know about and even less have seen.

 

“It's beautiful,” Genji hands the fang back to Jesse, “A bit morbid.”  
“Never said we weren't a morbid kind,” Jesse grunts, snatching up his knife and finishing the wreath at the top of the ivory tooth, “But I ain't gonna let his mamma worry 'bout where her boy's gone.”  
Genji hums. There's still so little he understands about Jesse's culture – about _werewolf_ culture. Everything he _thought_ he'd known in the beginning turned out to be a stereotype, the actual rituals in werewolf religions entirely more intimate.

 

This was practice he'd never wrap his head around – it falls in-line with the gift giving practice. If the body can be returned to the pack, then every attempt should be made to do so.

If the body cannot, then a memento should be taken.

 

“It'll be a half day hike to his pack from here,” Jesse points northwest, into the thick of the forest, “At least, that's where I remember from the rumor mill a while back – it may be a stretch but...guess it couldn't hurt to see.”

He turns the fang to the side, turning his knife so a small hole runs through just under the top of the tooth. He's got a line of thin leather in the house, at his workbench – the fang will, at least, be a nice necklace, “I'll understand if ya wanna stay home, but...guess I'd appreciate your company.”

“You should be resting.” Genji chides, “You'll hurt yourself again”

“I'll rest when I'm done.” Jesse shrugs, “You know how I am – can't leave no job unfinished.”

 

“I do not understand why you are doing this,” Genji says quietly. The runes on his arm burn in the cold, “So much effort for someone who would not do the same for you.”

Jesse hums again, “Don't rightly know myself. Seems silly, don't it, tryin' to follow a code I didn't even grow up with...just seems like if I don't, then I'm gonna alienate myself even more. Like if I can't follow simple traditions like this, then I ain't got the right to call myself a wolf.”

 

He turns to Genji – he looks...lost.

“Do I sound silly, thinkin' like that?”

Genji leans forward, kissing his brow

“I do not think so.”

 

\- - -

 

“'m cold.” Jesse says after a while. He's not, his body is wonderfully warm – but Genji smiles, pressing his lips against Jesse's neck.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Jesse stands, reaching out a hand to help Genji up, “You wouldn't happen to have somma that soup yer always makin, would you?”

“Soup?” Genji thinks quickly, “Oh. The miso – I could make some?”

“Wouldn't mind it.”

 

\- - -

 

“You think more about that question I asked you?”

“Hmm?”

Jesse swirls his soup in the bowl, little circles of green onion floating to the surface. The kitchen is wonderfully warm, the teapot bubbling on the stove, the smell of freshly cut vegetables floating in the air, “'member. I asked you somethin' a few days ago.”

“Ah...yes.” Genji sets his bowl down. It's half full, a chunk of tofu stubbornly settled on the bottom, “You have not exactly given me time to answer. The moment I told you 'I don't know', you turned and would not talk to me.”

Jesse shrugged, “Guess...guess I thought it'd be an easy answer.”

“That question is never easy, Jesse McCree.” Genji closes his eyes; he feels old.

 

He'd wondered when they were going to talk about... _that_. The very question that prompted Jesse to transition for close to a week - it was a conversation a long time coming, after all. He can understand why Jesse would be so eager for an answer.

But that was the problem: Genji didn't _know_. For a seemingly simple _yes_ or _no_ answer, there were so many things to take into account, to consider..

 

“Guess you're right.” Jesse sighs into his bowl, “Maybe...well.”

He can't think of what to say. They sit in an uncomfortable silence, tired and bruised.

 

“Jesse, please understand,” Genji says quietly, pushing the bowl away.

“ _This_ ,” he motions around him, “Is not what I expected in my life. Maybe when I was a child but as I grew older...I never thought _this_ would be where I would end up.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“ _Listen_.” Genji grasps Jesse's hands, “It is not. I could never think this was a “bad” thing; I cannot tell you how happy I am here, how happy I am with _you_.”

He lifts his hand, cupping Jesse's cheek to face him. A soft thumb traces Jesse's cheek.

“I'm asking you to give me time. Be patient, let me digest what I can. I am sure you can understand, this has been quite the ride.”

Jesse's hand follows Genji, closing around his and entwining their fingers, “Guess I was bein' a little bratty, wasn't I?”

Genji laughs, a weight off his shoulders, “No. You needed time to digest, just as I do now. I can understand it.”

“What'd I ever do to deserve you, Gen.”

“I ask myself that question every day.” Genji leans forward, kissing Jesse's brow.

 

\- - -

 

Breakfast is finished in relative quiet. Jesse guides Genji up the stairs to their bedroom and unwraps him from the serape. Genji stands on his toes, encircles his arms around Jesse's neck and pulls him down into a kiss. Their bodies press close, hearts beating in unison.

Genji's knees hit the bed and they fall over, legs twining together, tongues searching mouthes. Jesse's hand is up Genji's shirt, caressing the sensitive skin of his chest, his mouth teething at his neck and Genji throws his head back, giving him full access.

 

Genji's fingers are quick, undoing the button of Jesse's jeans and shoving them (along with his shorts) down. Jesse works them off the rest of the way, his cock half hard against Genji's thigh.

He stops Genji from ripping his panties off, instead crawls down and presses his lips against the bones of his hips, breath hot and humid. His hands grip at Genji's hips, tilting them up as his mouth presses against his covered slit, tongue running a wet length up.

“ _Jesse_ ,” Genji breathes, his hand flailing, scrambling for purchase. He settles on one hand gripping the headboard, one hand threading through Jesse's hair, gripping tightly, “Don't _tease_.”

Jesse gives a breathless laugh, lifting his head to kiss at Genji's wrist before he pulls the panties aside and buries his nose in the wiry hair of his pussy.

 

“Christ you smell good.”

 

“Weirdo.”

 

Genji's eyes roll back as Jesse's teeth tug on his labia; Jesse's fingers are still clutching his hip tightly (he wants them to bruise, he wants to feel them _bruise_ ). Jesse's good with his mouth, soaking his tongue in Genji's wetness. He laps, plunges his tongue inside, laps again and it's _good_ , bordering on _painful_.

“If you– _If-”_

_“_ Go 'head,” Jesse pulls back, slick dripping down his chin, “I wantcha to.”

“I want you to _fuck me_ ,” Genji nearly sobs as he feels hot breath so close, “ _Please_.”

“Didn't say I wouldn't.” Jesse laughs again, pressing another kiss to Genji's inner thigh, “Just sayin' I wanna drink ya down 'fore I do.”

“You _bastard_!” Genji fingers tighten in Jesse's hair as Jesse finally ( _finally_ ) brushes his cock. His lips form a tight suction, tongue darting against the nub; one suck, two, and Genji's hips thrust forward. He gives a sharp cry, his cunt undulating, slick dripping onto the bed.

 

Jesse laps it up as quick as it comes, like a starving man.

 

“ _Mutt_.” Genji pants against his arm, the white-knuckle grip on the headboard tiring the pins and needles in his fingers.

“ _Your_ mutt.” Jesse kisses a trail up, from the wiry hair, to his hip, to his belly to his neck and, _finally_ to his lips, “Your mutt, whether you like it or not.”

 

He's rock hard, his cock a furious red at the tip. Genji lets go off the headboard, running his hand between their bodies and wrapping it against Jesse. He can feel the silvery thread in Jesse's chest, the slowly-healing skin warped around the magic.

 

“Mine.”

Jesse rocks his hips into Genji's grip, growling like a _wolf_ , sharp white teeth biting into his own lip.

His panties are thrown clear across the room and Jesse holds his thighs open, giving an open mouth groan as he pushes _in_.

Genji is hot and he is tight and he arches his back as Jesse holds him close, letting him adjust. They're no strangers to a roll in the hay and it's still as good as the first time, _better_ than the first time, _better_ than back alley blow jobs, _better_ than sneaking into bathrooms for a quick fuck.

He gives a shallow thrust, testing the waters – Genji nods frantically, telling him to _move_ already.

 

It's easy to move to a steady beat, easy to fuck into that tight, wet, heat, easy to listen to Genji groan softly, and roll his head against the pillows. Genji's fingers are digging into Jesse's shoulders, nails scraping down his back and it _burns_.

Jesse bites down onto Genji's shoulder, his neck – one hand still gripping his hip, one hand wrapped around his cheek. He dislodges himself to sink his fangs into Genji's lip, tugging, growling.

Their teeth clack together as they kiss, rocking their bodies together in that slow, steady rhythm.

“ _Close_.” Genji whimpers into Jesse's mouth, clutching him closer after a particularly deep thrust.

“Yea, _yes_ , cum with me.” Jesse's hand darts to Genji's cock, taking the thing between two fingers and rubbing in time with his thrusts.

 

Orgasm washes over them like a wave, first Jesse, bursting white-hot inside and then Genji, his insides clamping down like a vise. It is quiet, and soft, and _exactly_ what they wanted.

 

Jesse pulls out slowly, rolling so Genji lays on top, eyes sleepy and lovestruck.

“I guess you are recovering.” Genji pants, smiling against Jesse's shoulder as Jesse lets out a throaty laugh.

 

They fall asleep like that, trading lazy, sticky-sweet kisses and sweet nothings. Jesse will have to be up with the night.

 

\- - -

 

Genji dreams of the forest. He dreams of the cottage, _their_ cottage. He dreams of the shed, the pitch-black inside and what lays within and, waking up, he grips onto Jesse and tries to shake his dream away.

 

 

\- - -

“I love you.”

“Yeah. You too.”

 

\- - -

 

 

Genji waits on the porch as Jesse drags the body from the shed into the freshly dug trench.

 

He was honest – he wants no part of the ceremony. He'd rather roll the body into the valley, for the harpies to devour, he can't find it in him to care about tradition and rituals and religion.

But he still waits on the porch, watching the ceremony unfold – the moon peaks through the clouds, shafts of light passing over them every so often – the smell of gasoline and burnt wood is quickly overpowered by the smell of cooking flesh and the pit bursts with a brilliant golden flame.

The fire rages throughout the night – Jesse stokes the fire until the early morning, spurning it with tinder and gasoline. It roars and crackles angrily, devouring the body within. Genji can hear the soft prayers, chanting in an ancient tongue only privy to wolves.

 

It's a...sad sight. Jesse sitting, covered in his black serape, his hat snuggly over his head. Genji can't pull himself away from the porch as the night passes, unwilling to participate in the prayers and unwilling to walk away until the bastard is _entirely_ gone.

 

There is nothing but badly charred bones in the pit when the sun finally breaks through trees. It's a clear day, puffy white clouds floating here and there. Genji walks to Jesse then, looking over the smoldering remains.

 

Jesse opts to let the bones cool before he brings them to the porch and arranges them, wrapping them in a clean, white square of linen – tradition dictates that the victor watches over the corpse of the vanquished but those bones won't rest on his property, not if he can help it. They'll bury them on their hike, far away from the cottage, far away from their lives.

 

There is only so much of the ritual Jesse can tolerate, after all.

\- - -

 

Genji's packed his rucksack by midmorning and located Jesse's paw protectors

 

They'll be back in the late evening, traveling with the stars – that isn't the longest hike they've ever taken. But going into unknown territory with potentially violent werewolves is never a fun adventure.

He packs everything he can think of – a med-kit, extra arrows, a spare set of clothes and boots for Jesse and an extra thick jacket for himself. Genji had considered the box in the basement, coated in a fine layer of dust and untouched since they moved to the town...and then opted to bring the bow, leaving the box to it's rest.

It's funny...he can remember nights leaping into the fray of battle, running headlong at monsters 10 times his size – fearlessness was a lover he'd dance with and call by name, and reckless was his mistress. But he's older now, smarter.

He's got more to lose.

 

\- - -

 

They stand and look back, inspecting the quiet cottage they call home. Naked as the day he was born, Jesse hoists Genji up by his hips and kisses him, body hot even in the snow.

“Figure I get a last one in before we leave,” Jesse snickers at Genji's bewildered expression.

 

Jesse's transformation is smooth and quick – bones crack soundly, fur bristles along scarred skin, eyes go from chestnut brown to bright yellow. Genji wonders if it was painful when he was younger and the growing pains were more prevalent.

It seems painless now, as Jesse shakes his fur out and stretches his paws.

 

Jesse snuffles at his hand, tugging on the serape around Genji's shoulders. He seems to like Genji wearing his things.

“We don't have time for that,” Genji chuckles, bopping Jesse on the nose. He leans down, straps Jesse's rucksack around his midsection, making sure the straps aren't too tight. The white satchel is tied to his side securely.

And then he ties a bandana around Jesse's mane – it's a tight fit and difficult to get through his thick mane, but it stands out, a bright red pattern in Jesse's fur. Jesse sits back, seeming to recognize the old bandana.

“For good luck,” Genji kisses his muzzle.

They start traveling northwest, plodding through the slowly defrosting snow.

 

\- - -

 

They make small talk as they walk.

 

“Jesse?”

Jesse snorts

“Where did you learn to talk?”

One ear swivels towards him.

“As a werewolf, I mean.”

Jesse sits back and considers the question – they've been hiking for a good hour and a half at this point, the snow slowly starting to thin out. It falls off the trees in clumps, snow birds starting to chirp in the sunshine.

“Started learnin' when I was..maybe three?” He grumbles eventually, shaking his head lightly, “Took me a while – ain't real natural with this snout. Kinda exhaustin, honestly.”

Genji assumed so – even now, Jesse's sounds garbled, more growl then actual voice. He stumbles with words occasionally – Genji can relate.

“Paps tried to teach me; Miss Ana helped out a lot.” He starts a lazy pace, tail wagging slowly at the memory, “'member, my papi ain't a wolf, and he ain't a beast. Witches can only do so much, right? Miss Ana, though? She knew her shit – made _me_ know my shit. When my Papi realized he couldn't teach me all the way, he left me to Miss Ana's disposal and she drilled me and drilled me and drilled me until I wasn't messin' nothin up.”

“And your father? He could not teach you?”

Jesse snorts again, “You ever heard selkie language? It's entirely growls and snorts – just different inflections of it. I kin speak a lil' of it, learned when I got older. Figure I'd try to relate to my cousins some.”

“Did it work?”

“Naw.” Jesse leaps over a fallen tree trunk and waits for Genji to climb up, “Dad's family never really _took_ to me, if you catch my drift. His ma and pa did, but beyond that, I don' really talk to them. Ain't real normal for a selkie to have a werewolf kid, right? _Whoo,_ you shoulda seen when one'a my Dad's family tried to tell me I don't belong – I ain't never seen Dad so mad in my life! Had to take three'a us to get him offa the gal.”

“And your papi's family?”

“They liked me – I still talk to my cousins on that side sometimes – 'member Misshelle? She got twins now, two baby girls!.” He sniffs at the ground, deciding to take a left instead of a right, “Witches got the same problems I got – people don't take to them real kind sometimes. Problem is, people _know_ it ain't right to look down on witches now. We ain't really there with werewolves.”

Genji falls silent, jogging to catch up with Jesse.

 

“Jesse?”

Jesse snorts again

“Teach me your language sometime.”

Jesse chuckles, tail giving a mighty wag

“Can do.”

\- - -

 

Jesse wanders into the wilderness when Genji sits for a break, the white satchel tied to his sack.

When he returns the white satchel is gone.

Genji doesn't point it out, but does tear his sandwich in half and offers it to Jesse.

 

\- - -

 

 

They reach the small town by afternoon – it's a brick and mortar hamlet, the chimneys of the stone houses puffing plumes of grey-white stone and the smell of freshly cut wood permeating the air.

 

It's a sweet little town, Genji thinks, for seemingly nomadic people. There are solar panels on the roofs, the streets are paved with cut stone, not a pothole in sight. No cars – the town's too short for a drive, but a few bikers ride past them.

People stop and stare as they walk through the main street, wolf and human alike. A pup barks frantically at them before it is scooped up by it's mother and huddled away into the house.

 

Within Genji, trepidation builds. He slips the bow from his back, hand ready to snatch an arrow from the quiver. Jesse's ears are pricked forward, but his tail (usually straight and proud) hangs limply, his plodding steps almost tentative. The walk past houses (whos windows quickly close) and stores (whos doors slam shut), into what he can only assume is the center of the town.

 

A small group clusters around them, curious noses twitching. A few adolescent pups poke their noses at Jesse's lips, nosing at the obvious scars, the adults whispering to one another.

 

“We aren't here to cause trouble,” Genji says firmly, backing away from a sniffing nose, “We just came to deliver something.”

The group remains quiet, all eyes on Jesse, like Genji hadn't said a thing. The adolescent pups step back, suddenly fearful of the older werewolf. One growls softly and then tucks his legs between his tail, falling back into the sea of people.

 

The crowd parts. A woman with dark auburn hair hurries through. She's older, laugh lines and crows feet, a streak of silver running the length of her hair. Her eyes, honeyed-amber search between the two, her fear palpable.

Jesse stands his full height (A good 8 feet off the ground) towering above her.

He looks so small as he plucks the tooth from his rucksack and gingerly hands it to her.

 

The woman takes it slowly, turning it in her palm, thumbing the ridges of the carved flowers. The whispers simmer, horrible _silence_ filling the group. Genji winces as he hears a sob to the left of him, shocked proclaims of _No_ shaking him to his core.

 

She wraps her hand around the tooth, the leather hanging limply in her grip.

 

“Would you boys like some lunch?”

\- - -

 

 

They learn a few things over the course of lunch – the first being Nik (as was his name) had just reached adulthood a year and a half ago. The second being he was the middle child with an uncontrollable wild streak.

 

The third was a surprise for Genji more than anything – werewolves actively invite their, for lack of a better term, child-killers into their homes and treat them like family. Genji shifts uncomfortably as Jesse speaks, telling the mother the entire story. She watches them closely over folded hands, her eyes never leaving Jesse's until he's finished.

Jesse stays in form the entire time; he squirms in the chair, far too big for the poor thing. Genji will be shocked if it doesn't collapse under his weight.

 

“Niky was...a sweet boy,” his mother ( _Helena_ she'd provided somberly) says quietly, her back turned to the kettle on the stove, “But he always felt he had something to prove. That he had to come out on top of every situation, or he just wouldn't amount to “enough”. His father and I did everything we could...I guess...”

 

She can't finish that sentence, shaking her head. She moves back and forth, putting things here and taking that out – finally, she sets steaming bowls of chowder and freshly baked bread on the table and hands them both cups of steaming tea.

“That doesn't excuse what he did, not in any way...,” Helena pours a helping of cream into her cup, handing the cow shaped saucer to Genji, “I hope it does explain it, however.”

  
Nik's siblings had filed into the kitchen not soon after Jesse and Genji arrived, plucking slices of bread and pouring this own bowls of chowder and coffee: two sisters, two aunts, an older brother and an uncle, and all of their children. The house is abuzz of with soft chatter.

 

They're all human, Genji notes, all dressed in black. One has a suckling pup, his eyes barely open – it reaches for Jesse, curious of his torn ear. There's a surprisingly lack of crying, he notes too – instead, an air of acceptance.

The siblings comfort their mother first and then turn their attention to Jesse and Genji, apologizing for their brother's actions.

It's not what Genji expected at _all_ – the mother with the suckling pup offers to let Genji hold the baby when she sees him looking and the brother greets them warmly, thanking them for coming.

 

It's all greek to Genji. In his home, families of the dishonored were penitent, groveling even (depending hierarchy) when approached by the people their family harmed. But they aren't...warm. The mourning mother isn't addressing them as murders but as old family friends

It is equal parts confounding and relieving.

 

Genji stays quiet throughout the bulk of the conversation – Jesse would do the same if the roles were reversed, after all. He doesn't know this culture, doesn't know what could start a fight or sow already bad blood – instead he looks around the kitchen.

Pans hang above the oven, pots on the stove, dried herbs tied to colorful thread hang by the window – there is a fetish above the doorway, a bronze piece of a suckling wolf and two children beneath her. Black and white and faded yellow pictures litter the wallpapered walls; this house is well-lived in.

There was a painting in the alcove, of the same suckling wolf, a halo around her head, the women of the family all wearing pendants of the same wolf – with what little Genji knows of their religion, he can only assume that is their god.

 

Two of the little ones wave Genji over, away from the adults, a little girl with pigtails and an older boy with sandy-red hair. They pause when an adult looks their way and then continue to wave to him, their faces shinning with excitement.

Genji excuses himself and follows after the children, who run out onto the porch ahead of him.

 

A gaggle of children wait for him and instantly bombard him with questions, Who is he, where's his pack, what's that weird curved thing and why does he smell so funny?

 

Again, it's not what Genji would expect – the children have no fear of him, instead are leaping over one another to be close to him (like _puppies_ , Genji thinks). They're all neatly dressed and pressed; the youngest of the group, a toddler, is stuck in that phase of “not quite human, not quite wolf” and has a pair of fluffy ears sticking out, the tips lazily flopped forward as he sucks on his thumb.

 

Genji looks back into the house, were the adults are conversing quietly, and then sits on the stairs and begins to speak.

The pups stare at him with wide eyes as he tells them of the beautiful Hanamura

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> _how is this fic getting longer every time i write?_  
>  kudos if you can tell what those flowers are at the shimada-mccree household 
> 
> i finished this chapter with Passionfruit on repeat - idk how it fits in the material, but fun fact? the rhythm jesse's using is Passionfruit's beat  
>  
> 
> the concept of rabies was something i played with a LOT as i was writing this fic - ultimately, that idea was scrapped, but I would be interested to see a fic about rabies and werewolves. honestly, that's probably how many feral werewolves became feral. i'd really like to explore this culture a lot more, maybe i'll get a chance to the future.
> 
>  
> 
> i debated with myself to break this chapter in two and post separately or just power through and make it all one big chapter - in the end, i broke this chapter into two parts. this gives me a chance to go more indepth about something i'd been pondering for a long time 
> 
>    
>  a lot of what jesse's saying is the shit i went through (and still go through) with my OWN culture. it's not fun feeling removed from everything that's supposed to be your very makeup...it's confusing and upsetting and sometimes you just go through the motions to just make do.
> 
> on a lighter note, i've been doing live writes of these chapters - i actually enjoy doing live writes because it makes me actually concentrate on the material. i'll post the next time i do one, please come!
> 
>    
>  **Find me on**[Twitter](https://twitter.com/OswaldSleepy) and [Tumblr](https://oswaldsleeping.tumblr.com/)  
>   
> 


	5. Addendum

Mythics have always been around.

However, the term wasn't coined until 1895. Coined by Dr. Anastasia Ziegler in her dissertation _A Study in the Feral Disease, it's Attributes, and Treatments_ , Dr. Ziegler broke Mythics into two groups: Beast Mythics and Fae Mythics. It's fairly easy to see who falls into what category – the four legged creatures (manticores, mermaids, werewolves, dragons, the like) were beasts and the two legged creatures (witches, warlocks, various strongmen) were fae.

Ziegler is also the first quoted scientist to study the effect of Feral disease and it's treatment. At the time, Feral rates had skyrocketed. It was the number one concern amongst mythic communities. Mythic mothers were bombarded with old-wives tales of “send the children to school with onion roots” or “castor oil every night, to shake the feral from the bones”.

Many of these mothers had to watch their children be put down.

In _A dissertation on Feral disorder and it's Further Treatment_ , Ziegler said the following: “[...]At the first sign of symptoms, the subject should be directed to begin closing all affairs and accounts. While many fables exist about Feral, one we know is certain – it is incurable.”

In her brief time working in the public health field, Dr. Ziegler produced a number of simple remedies for the Feral epidemic. 10 years later, she would succumb to feral herself.

Life, as it were, is filled with irony.

 

 


	6. the monsters between the trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watches the entire scene from the trees.  
> She watches them walk into town.  
> She does a lot of watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: talk of children, child rearing
> 
> read the notes.  
> happy new year.  
>  i read every comment i get and it fills my heart with joy. i love you guys  
> i have a new twitter just for my fics. i post stuff on there, sometimes i stream  
>    
>  **Find me on**[Twitter](https://twitter.com/BrotherOswald) and [Tumblr](https://berevityandquiet.tumblr.com//)  
>   
> 

“You're very old fashioned,” Helena says, taking from her mug, “You've returned my son's memento, you're still in form. What pack are you from?”

“No pack ma'am.” Jesse says, “I was raised by non-wolves.”

“Oh? Live on your own, Joel?”

“No ma'am. Suzaku's with me.” Jesse narrows his eyes. There is a sliver of guilt as he lies about their names – that sliver is quickly trampled by logic. He has no clue who these people are, what their real intentions may be. One of their own attacked him, for christ sake. For the time being, it's Joel and Suzaku Marricone.

It's been an uncomfortable thirty minutes. Back and forth banter – Helena's poker face is the best he's ever seen. Jesse takes a moment to look her over – she's a very pretty woman. Laugh lines, crows feet, soft lips. Auburn hair with wisps of silver woven between them, in the almost-neat braid that's curled over her shoulder. Behind her horn-rimmed glasses, her eyes are as sharp as a knife.

“Anyone else? No pups?”

“Well, that'd be tellin', ma'am.” Jesse gingerly brings the cup to his muzzle – drinking is awkward. He opts to lap at the surface – it's a fruity tea, fragrant. Tiny flower petals line the bottom of the cup, “Can't tell you _all_ my secrets, can I?”

It's a poor imitation of a joke - he doesn't like her questions. He doesn't like them one bit.

The mother takes another sip, “Yes...I suppose it would.”

They continue their lunch.

 

“You'll have to forgive my curiosity,” She says after a moment, swallowing thickly, “I know this must all seem so strange to you, not coming from a pack yourself. You know our customs very well, I'm impressed.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

“I suppose I keep asking you things because I'm hoping that....well, that this isn't _my_ son we're talking about.” She takes the cup from his paws and refills it to the brim, suddenly fascinated by the tea pot, “That this is all some massive misunderstanding and that my son could never do something so heinous.”

She hands the cup back to Jesse with a heavy sigh and places the pot down harder than she probably intended.

“We are who the goddess made us to be. Niky didn't understand the boundaries and so he was killed. You know that, don't you son?”

“Yes ma'am.”

He doesn't like being called “son” - his own parents didn't do that, but somehow, everyone else thought they could. Jesse bites his tongue and whips his tail back and forth. The woman had just lost her boy, he reasons with himself, it would be wrong to upset her on something so trivial.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

“Where are your puppies!”

“What?” Genji balks before catching himself, “Puppies?”

The pig-tailed girl nods firmly, frowning, “You didn't bring your pups with you.”

“Well, I...I do not have any.” Genji explains, slowly “So I could not bring them, could I?”

The one sucking his thumb removes his thumb long enough to say, “Why not?”

Oh _that's_ quite a question. The children had be inquisitive from the moment he'd walked onto the porch, poking their noses at him. On one hand, yes, it was annoying, but on the other it was...strangely endearing. The innocence of children has always been something he liked to see.

Three of the children have grown tired of the Q&A and have taken to running back and forth in various states of undress – one is still human and is missing his coat and tie, another is shirtless (but still with his tie) and struggling to run with his tail tripping him, and the third is entirely nude and entirely wolfish, barking to encourage the play.

“I do not want them.” Genji answers, watching the pups run back and forth, leaping over rock and weed “My job is very important to me and I want to work on that.”

“Before you have pups?” the auburn-haired boy is sitting cross legged in front of him.

“I...maybe. I do not know if I want them yet.” He tries to soften his tone.

Lycanthrope packs place a big emphasis on family, he knows that much. It just hadn't occurred to him... _how_ much - these are strange questions for children to ask. But to them, having pups and families and community was the most important thing. It's a different world, Genji reminds himself, as he clears his throat and listens to the children talk.

“Momma says everyone is supposed to have a big pack.” The pig-tailed girl says, “But Antonia Cento? From school? She said that little packs are better because no one has to share as much!”

“Oh?” Genji quires, “And what do you think?”

The pig-tailed girl frowns, “ _I_ think big packs are better because you have more people to play with!”

“Yeah!” the thumb-sucker speaks around his thumb.

 

One of the mothers looks over the porch and calls to the naked pup, demanding that he clothe himself this instant.

“Sorry about that,” she murmurs as she hurries past him, plucking clothes from the ground and snatching the pup up in her arms, “You know how kids are.”

Genji gives a weak laugh.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

“So where did you meet him?”

“Ma'am?”

“Your partner,” She avoids using the term “mate” he notes, “Murasaki, was that his name?”

“Suzaku.” Jesse corrects

“Oh. How pretty.” She doesn't sound particularly impressed, “How did you meet him?”

“I was...in Japan.” Jesse starts slowly, “Met him there.”

“Oh? For pleasure?” “For business.” He's not _lying_ , per say – just twisting the truth a little, “We met by chance.”

“And he came back to the states with you? How romantic.” There's a flicker of something behind her eyes, “That must have been quite the adjustment.”

“I guess so. Haven't thought about it all that much.” “Word to the wise – you may want to.”

Jesse stamps down the growl – she knows _nothing_ about him, about Genji. Who is she to comment on their relationship?

He levels his tone, “Why do you say that?”

She looks almost wistful, “It's difficult for wolves to partner, let alone for a...non-wolf to try to learn our ways. How long have you two been together?”

“A while.” Jesse grits, “We don't really work in numbers.”

“I guess you're not as much as a traditionalist as I thought,” She almost murmurs, her eyes turning to bore into Jesse's, “I was with my mate for many moons. There were still things I was learning until the very end.”

He shifts uncomfortably. Wolves very rarely take on new mates after their own passes – her pups are all adults, with pups of their own. How long had he been dead, he wonders?

“The Goddess took him,” She continues, still watching him over her mug, “Moons and moons ago. Tiber was only a pink-nose.”

Helena motions towards the her son, a slim looking man with bright red hair. It's neatly cropped, barely hiding the scar over his eyebrow, “Barely old enough for a mane and forced to lead the pack. Sad, isn't it?”

 

Jesse doesn't feel particularly sad. It's a clear bet who the alpha is, even if she wants to hide behind titles.

 

“But I'm sure you know all about that, don't you? You've been an alpha for quite some time. Although...I suppose the title should really be _high_ alpha now, wouldn't it?”

Jesse coughs, pushing the cup aside. There's a bubbling burn in his gut that would make him sweat if he were human. He's familiar with the term, even if he doesn't like the meaning.

 

 

\- - -

 

In werewolf packs there are two kinds of alphas: standing and high.

A Standing Alpha is an alpha male or female that inherited or earned the title by either bloodline or marriage. According to Chaney in his study _The Hierarchy of Lycanthrope Peoples_ , “[...] A Standing Alpha will typically be the oldest werewolf in a pack. This isn't to say that they have not see combat – not entirely. A Standing alpha's primary duty is the protection of the pack, it's surroundings and it's livestock (if it is a farming pack). As was the case in the bronze-age lycanthrope tribes, war was common between packs and the alpha was at the forefront, guiding the trope into battle.

“Of course, time has softened lycanthrope tribes. The transition from war-mongering to post-industrial has made packs into what I would consider _selective pacifists._ Even amongst themselves, there is very little quarrel and problems that do arise are quickly expunged with help of the entire community.

Ergo the role of the Standing alpha has softened as well. Whereas war was the first solution, bartering, politics, and negation has fast become the new go-to.” [Chaney, 1981]

 

Chaney goes on to describe the High Alpha.

“High Alphas are alphas that have their authority _directly_ challenged. Unlike the Standing Alpha, who fights for his land, his livestock, etc., a High Alpha is fighting for their title alone.

A High Alpha battle should not be confused with a Nomad's Entrance – while a nomadic adolescent may challenge the alpha, these are often undertaken by quote-unquote “pinknose” wolves who have not honed their skills. Nomad Entrances are quick, with very little violence and almost entirely made up of posturing.

“A typical High Alpha battle is undertaken by a skilled fighter. There is no intention to join a pack or a family, it is entirely for the sake of snatching the title. These battles are _always_ lethal – either the Alpha dies or the challenger does.”

 

 

\- - -

 

 

“I guess.”

“Oh? No desire to use the name?”

Jesse licks his lips, “Not particularly.”

“And why is that?”

 

The adults have all moved outside due to some commotion – Jesse can hear laughter outside, Genji's soft, low laugh. What he wouldn't give to be trudging back through the snow with Genji, back to their little cottage. To be wrapped up in their comforter in front of the fire, watching the logs burn, to listen to Genji nap against his side. All at once, he regrets this decision - he could have thrown the body into the center of the woods, for the animals to eat.

If he could go back in time, he would.

 

“With all due respect, may I ask why the mother of the boy I just _killed_ is asking me that?” He can't help himself, asks before he can tamp the words down.

The smile she gives him is _cold_. Helena laughs, long and loud, her hand thrown against her mouth, those starling-green eyes striking into him and all Jesse wants is to go _home_.

“You _are_ a very strange creature, Joel.” she says between giggles, taking another sip of her tea, “I don't think I've ever met anyone like you. Would you like some more?”

“No ma'am.” She pours him more tea anyways – his cup is close to full, bulging at the top and about to spill over. He makes no effort to take it.

“Do you have pups, young man?”

Jesse balls his paws, “You've asked me that already, ma'am.”

“Did I?” She looks at him from the corner of her eye, “I did, that's right. Your mind gets away from you when you get older, son.”

“I've heard that, ma'am.” He bristles, the term _son_ said so...uncomfortably endearing.

“Well why not indulge this old lady, son?”

 

Jesse can't help how his lips pulls back on instinct. If she notices, she says nothing, still smiling at him. It's a weird sort of staring contest, one that Jesse's not going to win anytime soon.

“No pups ma'am” Jesse says after a moment, taking another lick of his cup.

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise slowly, “No plans for them?”

“No,” Jesse grits out, fighting to keep his claws sheathed.

“What a shame.” She breaks her gaze. She's won. “Pups make life fuller, Joel. Keep you on your toes, keeps your mind sharp. You're depriving yourself of that responsibility, don't you think?”

“Responsibility?”

“To the goddess.” Her fingers drum on the table, “She who gave us life. She asks us to make the world fruitful, son. You're a healthy sire, is it because-”

“I'm not interested in raisin' younglins right now.” Jesse interrupts, his ears pressed against his skull, “It ain't more complicated than that.”

She smiles at him, “Very few of us are. I certainly wasn't.”

 

The house is silent, the entire family outside. It's just them now, in this tiny, cramped kitchen, surrounded by glaring fetishes. There's a breath of cold that curls from the open door, a short breeze that reminds him that there's still snow outside – melting snow, but snow all the same.

“But my house is filled. Even at my age, I'm surrounded by my children. Doesn't that sound appealing?” Her fingers drum faster now, nails clicking on the lacquered surface, “They teach you so much, Joel. More than you could ever know.”

“Guess that's jus' not my speed, ma'am.” Jesse begins to stand, pushing the chair back, “Now I best-”

“They teach you what it is to sacrifice.” Her voice turns icy. Jesse stands in place, too tall for the kitchen itself.

 

All facades dropped – she stares at him coldly, “That is why the Goddess wants us to be fruitful. Because she wants us to learn.”

“What the fresh hell are you talkin' about.” Jesse hisses, fur bristling. He leans forward, gripping the back of the chair with a white-knuckle grip, “Ma'am I'm tryin' to be polite. But you've been talkin' in riddle all goddamned afternoon and I ain't partial to that.”

“I would have thought you'd be well versed in riddles, _professor_.”

“I ain't-”

“I met a very interesting man some time ago.” She interrupts again, not phased at all by his growling, “A man who built a house in the middle of the forest with his beloved. He told me he was studying at university to become a professor. I guess he hasn't made that happen yet.”

 

The blood rushes from Jesse's face. His mane puffs up instinctively.

 

“I wonder if you've met him. A Jesse McCree – you should visit him sometime, you two would hit it off right away.”

"What are you playin' at."

"He's a smart young man, very impressive. Maybe you two are cut from the same cloth. I guess he's learned how to use those smarts to his advantage." She takes another slow, steady drink, still watching Jesse, "That will work to his advantage."

 

“Ma'am, I don't know what you've got plannin',” Jesse steps back from the chair, baring his teeth, “But I don't want any part of it. 'n you need to leave me _out_ of it.”

 

She laughs – it's mirthless, “I've got nothing planned. I'm an old woman, _Joel_. I don't have time for plans anymore.”

She stands, walking around the table to Jesse slowly, deliberately. Even now, Jesse can see why she was a high alpha for so long. She reaches out, runs a hand over his mane before he can snarl at her. Helena doesn't seem phased, slowly pulling a strand of fur back, “ _Sacrifice_. That is what children teach you. They tell you what's important and what isn't.”

She stands toe to toe with him and McCree's never felt so small in his life, “Sometimes you must do something horrible for the safety of the _rest_ of your children. There are some fevers you cannot stamp out.”

Jesse backs away.

"You can fight it. You can contain it, you may even destroy it for a time. But fever always comes back, doesn't it? It comes with the seasons - they say it's hidden in the cold."

She examines the strand of hair before tossing it away, "Eventually you learn - you do whatever it takes to keep your children safe."

“What the _hell_ did you do.” He asks quietly, still baring his teeth.

“You've caught the eye of some very interesting people, Mr. Marricone.” she says, her voice just above a whisper, “The moment you entered this forest, I knew you. Where you were from. I'm not saying it's a bad thing.”

McCree licks his lips nervously.

“I'd make a very poor leader if I didn't know what was going on outside our little town, wouldn't I?” The cool smile returns, her own teeth glittering. They're sharp, fangs well worn, “I've known every wolf that walked into this forest, be they our family or not. Our packs are dying, son – I didn't have a choice. Knowing where the other wolves were could save us from dying off _entirely_. There's only so many wolves left, let alone our little corner of the world. You were a bit of a mystery, at first, but then I remembered.

“A little wolf. A runt, honestly. Tiny, barely able to walk on his own. A red fur. Fiery little thing but you could barely smell the wolf on him. Lived on Watchpoint Island, in very strange company. I offered to take him, you know.

"After all, it's not like a witch knows how to raise a wolf.”

 

 

\- - -

 

 

_Then..._  
“That's pretty fucking presumptuous.”

 

She's not an easily phased woman. She's survived being a test dummy. Survived a war of the worlds. Hell, she'd single handedly saved her tribe from death – she'd stared Death in the face and laughed.

She has the grace of the Goddess at her back.

 

She returns their stares with her own. She will not blink first. She will _never_ blink first.

 

“Please understand.” She says, her cup of tea untouched, “I don't mean to come into your household and tell you how to raise your children-”

“Then why the _fuck_ are you here-”

“ **Jack**. Cool it.”

 

She watches from the corner of her eye as the...thing (he doesn't smell right, it keeps ringing in her head, he _doesn't smell right_ ) storms from the kitchen table and into the other room. A door slams, hard enough that glass shatters.

 

“Jack's always been a hot head,” She murmurs, “Has been since boot-camp.”

“I'm not going to ask you to forgive him. I'm sure you can understand where he's coming from.”

“As I am sure you understand where _I_ am coming from.”

“Of course I do. We're in the same boat, after all.”

“I'm not saying I _want_ to take your child.” Helena sighs, leaning back in her seat, “But do you really think you can raise him correctly? Do you know how many pups I had to put down? It isn't fair to you – it isn't fair to _him.”_

“Jesse's not going feral.”

“I've heard that so many times.” She rolls her shoulders, folding her hands on the table, “I know the risks. _You_ know the risks, you know how high they are. And add a selk-”

“Harris, I know you're trying to do the right thing, but I will _not_ hesitate to beat the living shit out of you if you finish that sentence.”

Her words catch in her throat. Helena coughs, clearing her throat, drumming her fingers agains the table.

 

“You always were very protective, Commander,” she huffs a laugh, blinking.

 

Everyone folds under Gabriel Reyes.

 

 

\- - -

 

_Now..._

“I know his father. _Both_ of his fathers. They're good men – I hope they still are.” The cool facade melts from her face, just for a second, “Only Commander Reyes would raise a wolf pup and train him to be resistant to wolfsbane.”

Her eyes cut to the half-drunk cup. Jesse licks his lips.

“You don't know a _damned thing_ 'bout my parents.” He hisses

“I served with them in the war. A whole trope of us did. Only a handful came back.” She sighs slowly, “My faith in the Commander has never steered me wrong. I don't think it ever will. And of course, who best to instill that into but his very own son.”

She reaches out again, to brush his mane – her hand yanks back just in time to avoid his snapping teeth.

“I did what I had to do.” She says, smiling at him, staring at her hanging hand, “It may not look right, it might be _wrong_ to you, but _I did what I had to do_. And that's what children teach you, Mr. Marricone. They teach you what's important.

“Then again. Maybe I'm wrong,” Her eyes travel back to his, “But I rarely am.”

 

“Why me?” He hissed, hackles raising, “Why _me?”_

 

She's silent.

 

Jesse turns on his paw and walks towards the door.

 

“Jesse,” The voice stops him just as he gets to the door. There's lively chatter outside – on instinct he sniffs the air. The family members all smell the same – like pine and snow and the crackle of the campfire – but there's a distinct layer beneath it all.

Parchment.

Ink.

Metal cleaner, clean cotton. Cherry blossom lotion.

 

“You could stay, you know. The offer's still valid, son.” Her hand is soft on his shoulder, curling around his bicep, “I _know_ you. I can read every hair on your snout. You fear it every full moon, don't you? That you'll go feral and kill him.”

Jesse bristles, turning to stare at her. He snarls outright now; she stares unblinkingly into his maw, not flinching as he leans in close.

“ **Stay. Away. From me**.”

“You don't belong to them. You'll always have a home amongst your kind, son. Remember that.”

 

 

Jesse yanks the door open and slams it shut behind him.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

“So really? No pups?”

Genji's tired of that fake laugh. He's _really_ tired of that question. The children huddled together, snoozing in the sunshine, the adults surrounding him. They're just as curious as the kids were, poking their noses to get a better smell on him, but they're considerably less fun to be around.

“No. No pups.”

“Really. That's...” One, a tall woman with her auburn hair tied into a messy bun, starts.

“Kind of odd.” Another finishes, her grey eyes looking between Genji and the rest of the group.

“Yes, I have...gathered that.”

“Oh I hope we're not being rude,” One of the men in a pressed suit says quickly, putting an arm around the auburn-haired woman, “I guess we're just a little surprised, that's all.”

“Surprised?” Genji quirks an eyebrow.

 

He much preferred the children to the verbal-tetris the adults like to play. His tone has lost all tolerance - he's sure he's coming across very aggressive now, “Is it really that shocking that we have not procreated?”

“Well...it's not like you're getting younger-”

“And he is the right age, after all.”

 

Between the smarmy looks and double-edged comments, Genji can hear the whispering “ _Probably_ _can't – too small” “They only take non-wolves for fun, you know” “ugly looking thing, isn't it?”_

 

"I am not interested in that now." He says plainly, "Maybe I will be in the future, but I am not now."

They look between each other like Genji's grown a second head. He feels like he's in a cage, started at by curious (and disgusted) patrons.

"Then why are you married to a werewolf?" Pressed-suit asks.

 

It's like a knife to the heart. He opens his mouth to respond, but all the words have slipped from his fingers.

 

 

Does Jesse think this?

 

 

He's practically ecstatic when Jesse bursts from the house, dropped onto all fours and storming past the group – Genji looks back at them. No one looked all that surprised.

“I guess I should be going.” He hurries to catch up with Jesse, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

 

There are calls of “Good bye” and “Good luck” behind him, the family beginning to file back into the house.

 

Genji turns back to Jesse, just barely keeping up with him – whatever happened in that house...well, maybe it'd be better if Genji _didn't_ know.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

“W-Wait up! Jesse, _wait for me_!”

“We need to go.” Jesse snarls, breaking into a canter, “ _We gotta go_ , _Gen'-”_

“Jesse, what's going on? Just- Just slow down and _talk to me_.” Genji pants, practically running after the wolf – the streets are still startling quiet, but he knows they're being watched.

He can feel it on the back of his neck.

 

Jesse begins to change just as he breaks into the line of trees, fur shedding off, bone snapping into place. It doesn't slow him down – if anything, he just goes faster.

He's practically running at this point, naked, cold, eye wide with what Genji can only assume is fear.

“Je- _jesus christ_ , Jesse can you _please_ just stop and talk to me?!” Genji shouts, finally catching up with him. Genji grabs him on his shoulder just as Jesse leans against the biggest tree and vomits

 

“Oh my god, Jesse...” Genji stands back, horrified. The mucus is dotted with purple petals, spots of bright, red blood in between. Everything they ate that afternoon. The bread, the chowder, their breakfast, it all comes up at once, steaming in the chilly air.

“Jesse, what did that monster _do_ to you?!”

“She knew.” He spits, running a hand over his mouth. Spit and vomit have coated his chin, he feels disgusting, “She _knew_ ”

“Knew what?” Genji sounds alarmed, rubbing a free hand against his back, “Jesse, what is going on?”

“He was goin' feral, Genji – she knew he was goin' feral and she turned him on us.”

 

His fingers clench at the tree, digging into the wood. His vision swims, dips, focuses in on the bark of the tree, the tiny rivulets of grain and wood, “She'd...she was leadin' that huntin pack, knew where we were....she told 'im about us, told 'im to come after-”

“I do not understan-”

“He was goin _Feral_ , ain't you listenin?!” Jesse sounds borderline frantic at this point, eyes gone wide, “She couldn't keep him here, she woulda had to have dealt with him on her own!”

“But why would she point him in our direction?!”

“Because,” Jesse crouches, gripping his hair, the smell of vomit burning his nose, “Because he was her kid. 'Cause she knew he wouldn't stand a chance.”

 

Genji feels _sick_. He lays a weak hand on Jesse's back, rubbing softly while he tries to grasp what he's heard.

“I do not... _why_.”

“Christ, she made me kill her own kid, _Christ_.” Jesse's sobbing, laying his head on the bark, fat tears dripping down his nose.

 

Jesse's not a stranger to death. He knows it well, knows it by name – in yellow, faded memories, he can picture the people, the mythics he's killed. There are shameful things in his past, things that belong in the attic, untouched and gathering dust.

 

But this...this was different. Nik was barely, _barely_ an adult, suffering, sick. He should have been at home, been with the people who loved him, instead of stumbling around the forests, filled with delusions of grandeur.

 

“Jesse.” Genji breathes, grasping at the straws of control. His brow furrows, “Jesse, listen to me.”

Genji takes a deep breath, “Do you remember what you told me? Years ago, in Nepal.”

Jesse continues to sob, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Jesse, _listen to me_ ,” Genji forces him to turn, to face him – Jesse leans down, pressing his face into Genji's shoulder.

Genji falls over slowly, his arm wrapped tightly around Jesse's broad shoulders, fingers running through his hair. They lay in the snow, the only sound Jesse's sniffling - Genji can feel his heart thruming beneath his fingertips. He draws his hand up to run through Jesse's hair, carding through the messy locks, “Tell me what _you_ told me. Go ahead. _Go ahead_ , you can remember it.”

“I said,” Jesse takes a shuddering breath, “I said _we take it one day at a time_.”

“Yes,” Genji cups Jesse's face in both hands, eyes locked with Jesse's, “Take it one day at a time. It may not be easy, but we need to take this one day at a time. We'll leave this place, we won't come back, I promise Jesse – _we will never come back here_ and they won't come to us. We can close this chapter, we can start a new one. Do you understand?”

 

Jesse hiccups. And then nods.

Genji kisses the tip of his nose.

 

It takes them a moment but he helps Jesse up to his feet, pulling his clothing out of his backpack. It takes a moment, but soon Jesse's dressed and calmed.

 

Jesse holds onto his hand as they walk home.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

_“Why are you married to a werewolf?_ ”

It echoes over and over.

_“Why are you married to a werewolf_?”

 

Jesse's almost back to his old self, telling stupid jokes in-between the quiet. Genji watches him.

He loves him. He'd sail a thousand ships, just to see that stupid smile.

 

_“Why are you married to a werewolf_?”

The tone is much sharper in his mind. Genji shakes the thought away, pressing against Jesse's side, their fingers still wrapped together.

 

 

_“_ _ **Don't you realize you don't deserve him**_ _?_ ”

 

 

 

\- - -

 

“You're a good boyfriend.” Jesse says, his hand still clenching Genji's, “You didn't have to come with me. I know it wasn't easy, but ya still came. You're a good boyfriend, you know that?”

 

They've reached the creek - it's only a ten minute walk left. Jesse can almost make out their little cottage in the distance. There's some firewood set aside - he'll throw it on, start it up. Sit in front of the fire to warm up and strip Genji down to the skin.

 

“I do.” Genji smiles at him, “But I think I would make a better husband.”

“I mean yeah, but...” Jesse pauses, even as Genji practically skips ahead, still grinning, “Whatcha mean there, Genji.”

“You know _exactly_ what I mean.” Genji sing-songs, “I will even forgo the normal “bend-the-knee, ring-in-hand” get-up, but I expect a big wedding.”

Jesse chases after him, stopping him and gripping his shoulders. He can't fight down the enormous smile that spreads on his face, “Look, ya gotta, you _have_ to say it outloud.”

“Say what?”

“Whatcha mean “say what”?!”

 

They're both laughing, nervous, breathless laughs that shake their lungs, spreads down to their fingers, “Genji Shimada, are you sayin' you'll marry me?”

Genji encircles his arms around Jesse's neck and presses a kiss to his jaw, “Yes, you dumb mutt – of _course_ I will marry you.”

 

Jesse lets out a whoop, lifting Genji up by the hips and tossing him into the air, catching him deftly – Genji shrieks in laughter.

 

" _They won't take him_ ," Genji thinks as Jesse kisses him, _"Maybe_ _he'll divorce me, maybe_ _he won't, but those fucks can keep their mitts off of him_."

 

 

 

\- - -

 

_Then_...

 

  
The door rattles against the side of the house. The inlaid glass pane shatters and Jack's half way across the yard, following shadows in the dark.

There's no real direction – he needs to be as far away from this house as he possibly can.

 

“Wait up, wa- _Jack!_ ”

Gabe's chasing after him, calling his name – Jack ignores him. Gabe catches up easily. Grabs him on the shoulder – Jack whips around and aims a punch at him.

Gabe doges it – Jack isn't really try to hit him, he wouldn't miss if that were the case. He's just _mad_.

 

“So you're trying to give away our kid now?!” Jack snarls, pushing Gabe, urging him to fight back, “Just throwing him to the fucking _wolves_?!”

“Don't be stupid, of course I'm no-”

“Then why the fuck is she still in my _house, Gabriel?!_ ”

“ _Our_ house.”

“Don't start that shit with me.” Jack shouts, hair bristled, “How the fuck could you sit there and let her say that shit? How could you sell out your own _son_ like that?!”

“That's not fair, Jack.” Gabriel says calmly. It's the one thing that Jack finds so amazingly... _frustrating_. Gabriel's the cool one out of the two, the one that keeps his head when the shit hits the fan, “At least give me a chance to explain before you go apeshit on me.”

“How the fuck am I not supposed to go apeshit?!” Jack shrieks, “That _bitch_ just walked in and tried to take my son, how the fuck are you not livid right now?!”

“Because I know she won't.”

“How the fuck do you know that?!” Jack's right in his face now, eyes wild, “You do this, Gabriel, _if you do this-_ ”

“For fucks sake, John!” Gabriel shouts, grabbing Jack by the shoulders and shaking him. Jack looks slightly aghast – Gabriel can be loud when he wants to. He still struggles, teeth bared – there's the slightest hint of canine in his snarl. Gabriel understands – it's hard to keep form when you're furious, “Do you really think I'm that heartless? Do you _really_ think that little of me?”

“I...” Jack slows his struggling – it's a limp shake now, a quiver on his lower lip, “No...no of _course_ I don't.”

 

Gabe pulls him close – Jack smells like baby powder and ground coffee and the ocean. Were he in a better mood, Gabe would tease him about the growing streaks of silver in his hair.

Not that Gabe minds.

He's always been partial to white hair.

 

“Then why is she here.” Jack asks into his chest, gripping the front of his shirt, “Why didn't you throw her out the moment she even _said_ anything.”

“Because we need a contingency plan.”

“We're not talking about an assault, this is our child.”

“I understand that.” Gabriel pulls back, looking up into Jack's ever-blue eyes. For a second he can see that baby-faced kid who had big dreams and big hopes for the great, big world.

 

That kid's grown into his world. His moon.

 

“ _Sello,_ baby, _please_ understand that _I_ understand that. But if something were to happen to us, we need to make sure he's taken care of.”

“If something happens to us, Ana will take him.”

“And if something happens to Ana?”

“Then Wilhelm will. Or Torbjorn, or, fuckit, I don't care, _Lucio_ would be a better guardian than that bitch.” Jack's hands have found Gabriel's arms. They're gripping him for dear life now, “You can't be telling me that you'd let Jesse live with fucking _Harris_ are you?”

“Really? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We were in boot together and roomed together in SEP. Best friends, that does not make.” Jack responds sullenly to Gabriel's smirk.

“Look, I'm not planning on going any time soon – I don't think you are either, but we need to prepare the future. **If** – and this is a very big if – the time should come that we need her, then I want to have options open.”

 

Gabriel takes his hand, “I need you to trust me on this, sello. Just _trust_ me.”

“Easier said than done.” Jack sighs, the lines deepening in his face.

“Why? When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Oh don't even, Groucho, we'd be here all night.” Jack grumps, letting Gabriel lead him back to the house. They fall in slow-step with one another; Jack leans against Gabriel's side, “Besides. You weren't the one strapped to a bed for twelve hours with him – I've earned the right to be overprotective.”

“You're right. I wasn't.” Gabriel accepts his weight easily, looping one arm over Jack's shoulders, “I'm not saying you're wrong. You're not.”

“I know I'm not” Jack snaps – it's half-hearted. Gabriel ignores him and continues.

“But it's not like we're entirely out of the clear yet. And you know that.”

Jack doesn't respond, half shrugging.

“And the last thing we need is Jesse going _back_ to where we just got _out_ of. You know what they'd do to him.”

Jack's hand slips beneath the buttons of his shirt, instinctively fingering the necklace there. It's a kind of nervous habit he's grown over the past year and a half, making sure the locket is still closed tight, the tablet still locked inside.

 

Gabriel sits on the steps the porch, pulling Jack into his lap. “We need to be ready. Even if nothing ever happens – and nothing _will_ ever happen – we need to be smart.”

“This doesn't feel smart, Gabriel.” Jack says quietly, “Harris doesn't...”

Jack makes a noise of dismissal

“No, no, what were you going to say?” Gabriel prompts him, wrapping his arms around Jack's waist and laying his head on Jack's shoulder.

“She doesn't smell right.” Jack says quietly, looking at the cloudy night sky. The clouds are almost purple, meandering through. The mountain looms in the distance, illuminated by tiny specks of light from the town, “It's...look, it's not something you'd be able to tell, you don't...you know, you don't _smell_ like I do, but she just seems.”

Jack shrugs again, “Off.”

Gabriel considers that, mimicking Jack's shrug, “How do you mean?”

 

Jack doesn't respond for a moment, lost in the night sky. “Remember what Harris told us about her family?”

“The tribe to the north? Yeah, a little bit,” Gabriel quirks an eyebrow, “What about it?”

“Remember what she said?”

Gabriel thinks, “Not...a lot. Mostly that they were dwindling.”

“They were _dying_ , Gabriel.” Jack supplies, “There was only a handful left of her family. Lycanthropes are all about self preservation, aren't they? When we were rooming together, she told me that her grandfather was head of her tribe, that she couldn't stand how he ran things. Harris would always bring that up whenever we talked about...you know,” Jack makes a half-wave motion – Gabriel understands. Selkies and werewolves have similar cultures, more similar than they would probably like. It would make sense that they found a common ground at their distance of the old-world order, “But she didn't bring him up once. Not _once_.”

“So? Maybe he died?”

“No,” Jack fidgets, “Gabe, that would have been the _first_ thing she brought up. It's just how beasts are – we talk about our packs before we talk about anything else.”

“ _You_ don't talk about your pack.”

“No, I don't talk about my pack to _you_.” Jack responds, “because you don't get pack stuff. You're not a beast.”

Gabriel shrugs again, twining their fingers together, “So what do you think happened?”

“Dunno. Can't put a word to feelings.” Jack squeezes their fingers together, “Harris has always been...weird. Very "for the greater good" even if what she's doing is batshit insane. But there was this look in her eyes...that smell.”

There's a flicker of something in his eyes. Gabriel watches him, watches that streak of icy-blue lightning that sparks for just a second.

“Something's not right with her.” Jack concludes softly, “I trust you – you know that. I'd follow you to the pits of hell, and I'll follow you here but...something doesn't sit right with me.”

Gabriel makes a noise, nuzzling his face into Jack's neck, “Duly noted.”

 

They sit together a moment more, holding hands. Their hearts beat in the same, steady beat.

Jack looks at him beneath his eyelashes, their eyes locking. They don't have to talk, not all the time - sometimes it can all said in a look.

Gabe leans forward, presses his lips against Jack - Jack accepts him, opens his mouth to slip his tongue into Gabriel's. It's innocent. Sweet.

Gabe always did taste sweet.

 

"You know she's still in the house."

"Yeah."

"If she touches my kid I'm kicking her ass."

Gabriel laughs, running his fingers across Jack's cheek. He hasn't shaved recently, bristles catching his fingertips. Gabriel's always been into his 5'oclock shadow, "I wouldn't stop you. C'mon."

 

Jack stands, helping Gabriel up. Gabriel smiles at him.

 

He begins to cough.

It's a harsh, rattling cough, the kind that makes him bed and bring a hand to his mouth.

Jack's hand is on his back, rubbing in circles.

"I thought you were going to the doctor," He says quietly, as Gabriel stands, wincing, "It's getting worse."

"It's not that bad. Don't worry about it."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the dark of the kitchen, Helena sits and watches the petals settle to the bottom of her cup. She was always awful at resistance training - this is very fitting, she thinks as the creature in the darkness walks around her.
> 
> "Here." She hands her guest the stand of hair - dark brown, flecks of red. Obviously part of a mane, "You'll keep your end of the bargin?"
> 
> "Of course. I've given your son the injections, I assume he knows what to do?"  
> "Yes." Helena sips her tea slowly. It burns down her throat.
> 
>  
> 
> "Ah." the thing in the dark grins as Helena slumps forward, shaking. She twirls the hair between her fingers, bringing it close, "It's good to see you again, #24".


End file.
